


To save an Empire

by SillyFanboy



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bruno's pov, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Heroes' lore shared with my other works but you don't need to read those, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Named Secondary Characters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Partners in Crime, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Tension, Worldbuilding, attempt at politics, in which Embla are the ones to summon the Great Hero, no beta we die like Gunnthrá
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24985360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyFanboy/pseuds/SillyFanboy
Summary: The Emblian Empire succeeded in their most dangerous mission yet – to steal an item from the Kingdom of Askr to put an end to their war.They stole the divine relic, Breidablik.The relic that would change them forever.
Relationships: Bruno | Zacharias/Summoner | Eclat | Kiran
Comments: 45
Kudos: 62





	1. The Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> heyo! welcome welcome to a new entry in my incapability to let go of this fucking game's nonexistent plot lmao  
> anyway yeah here's a brunoran fic i hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> decided to format this one using the accursed " system bc i'm getting rusty in it so yeah no – this time, rejoyce i guess hahah

He had never been one for the skies, if he had to be honest. As someone proficient in thunder magic, he had always preferred to stay where his feet could meet the ground – or his mount's could, at the very least. Hence why he had extensive training in horseback riding and rarely ever bothered visiting the wyvern's keep.

This, however, was a situation he was willing to make an exception of.

With the divine relic – Breidablik, in his hands, he reluctantly heaved himself atop the reptile's saddle and took off southwards.

To Askr.

Because, you see, he had succeeded in his most important mission to date- well, second to one a little more personal, but regardless. The Emblian Empire wanted to turn the tides of war in their favor, and the damned senators had banded together to twist the Princess's hand so she would concede in letting them send him in an undercover mission to the Askran Kingdom, their sworn enemies. 

What for? Why, to steal nothing other than the sacred relic, the divine Breidablik – the one weapon said to have been used by the Great Hero back in the days of the Great War to turn Nifl's struggle into a collaboration with Múspell to put an end to the conflict! Unthinkable, and yet, the records stood.

(Everyone in Embla was ignorant of the fact, of course, that he had planned ahead for this and stolen that same relic years prior during his “exile”.)

With this relic he was to call upon a new Great Hero, for the Empire needed their help in taking over Askr.

And, he knew, other things as well.

But that wasn't here nor there, and he shook the thought away as he finally sighted the ruins where he would perform the summoning ritual.

The descent was brisk at best, and he left the wyvern to eat grass on its own, relieved to get his boots on the ground once again. Relic in hand, he made his way into the worn-down walls covered in vines and moss. Truly a beautiful thing, too bad he had a reputation to uphold and Embla forbid anyone find him admiring some ruins.

So, knowing he couldn't risk staying in Askran territory for long, he stepped onto the carved platform in the middle of the mossy cracked cobblestone floor. Relic in both hands, he closed his eyes and tried to envision the flow of magic in this sacred place, the ruins of Vaskrheim. Slowly, with the steady hand of the one who'd taught the Princess to dance, he raised the relic over his head, breathing in and out to allow the magic to flow unimpeded and accept him as part of the space.

“Bring them to me, for they are needed in this realm,” he mouthed. “Bring me peace. By the two dragons of the new lands, and by the ancient dwellers of the mountains, I call here…”

_ The Great Hero _ , he completed in his mind, feeling light behind his closed eyelids and letting the wind blow around him with the power of the relic shimmering hot in his gloved hands.

For a brief second he allowed his mind to wander. What would their Great Hero be like? Would they be steadfast and determined? Would they be the embodiment of kindness? That would be a little harder to work with, but he would manage. For the sake of the Empire, and for the sake of the Princess, he would manage.

He had to--

A surprised yelp and the buckle of air created by an object flying past his head pulled him out of his thoughts and prompted him to open his eyes.

From the flash of light fell a person, with far more impulse than what one would expect, and tumbled down haphazardly over their shoulder before their back hit one of the old columns, a red… cylinder, rolling aimlessly towards them.

The person recovered quicker than he expected they would, and propped themselves up with their hands to examine their surroundings.

However, the sound of glass shattering not far from them had them both turning in that direction, only to find a spot on the field had- oh, Embla, it had caught on fire. Why had it caught on fire.

The person- the man, he realized, quickly grabbed the red metallic cylinder by a black rope and a strange contraption attached to it and made a run for the fire. Before he himself had any time to react to anything that had happened in the last two seconds, a cloud of- was that white dust? Chalk dust? A cloud of  _ something _ came out of the rope the other was holding and suffocated the flames in no time, putting out the fire and kicking the worry of a potential danger out of his mind with the suddenness of a slap to the face.

There was silence for a moment as the man stood straight and properly looked around the place, rightfully confused. Then his gaze landed on him, and his brow furrowed as if something about his person weirded him out.

Well, he supposed, some of the disgusting senators would be happy to know their Great Hero had beautiful eyes, at the very least. And he was dressed in strange clothes covered in… dirt? And ashes? Wait, was that on his shoulder a splash of blood?

He didn't miss how his grip on the rope and the contraption of the cylinder tightened in suspicion, though he did an excellent job when it came to keeping his expression only confused. 

As he seemed to remember something and pulled out a gray slate from… somewhere behind him…? he himself snapped out of his mild surprise and cleared his throat in silence.

“Are… you alright?” he spoke carefully, unsure now of what to say after whatever had just happened. His voice seemed to snap the other out of his thoughts.

“I’m- “ the man began, voice like a clear bell, yet tainted with exhaustion and ruined with exertion. His gaze wandered to the relic, and his grip on the rope and contraption tightened even more, for whatever reason. “I’m- That’s… not really important right now. Where are we?”

The man’s reply had him unwillingly raising his brows in mild surprise. He was suspicious, of course he was. He had to give it to him, though, he was doing an excellent job in remaining calm despite the fact he'd just pulled him out of his realm unannounced. 

He cleared his throat again. He couldn't get distracted.

“My apologies, I was not expecting you to arrive in such a manner,” he excused himself, and the others’ brow furrowed even more. He took a small bow after pretending not to have thought how expressive he was. “I have called upon your help for this realm, Great Hero, and I couldn’t be more relieved of your arrival.”

“Great Hero…?” the other questioned, weirded out. Oh, that quirked brow of  _ ‘what are you talking about?’ _ . He could get used to this Great Hero if he was always so colorful with his reactions. “What do you mean by ‘this realm’?”

“I… hoped you would be familiar with this, but very well,” he stood straight, serious. No getting distracted. “You find yourself in the realm we have called Zenith, a world connected to several other ones by the power of this sacred relic” he extended the weapon to the man in front of him.

“World…?“ the man repeated, dumbly, taking Breidablik and admiring the patterns for a second, yet unamused by it. ”You mean to tell me this is not… my realm?”

“You would be correct.” 

The man looked at him in utter disbelief for a moment, before returning his gaze to the relic which he held in such a strange manner. Perhaps that was the correct way to handle it?

Oh, but that look he gave him before. It was so very telling, and he was thankful for a moment their Great Hero's eyes were so clear and his face so expressive. That look, that incapacity to believe in his words, it didn't stem from suspicion. No, it was genuine confusion and dumbfoundedness. So that meant… either they hadn't discovered other realms in his own yet, or he had vastly underestimated just how wildly different could other realms be.

Perhaps there was no magic in his realm, that would certainly rule out any possibility of portal-opening and other worlds.

Ah, but he was getting too carried away in his analysis, the Great Hero seemed to have let the information sink in.

“O...kay…” the man let out, handing the relic back to him – how adorable. It was obvious he didn't believe a word he'd said, and he couldn't really blame him. Besides, the fact he had decided to play along regardless was enough for him.

“Keep it; it’s yours now,” he refused to take it. “This is the sacred relic Breidablik, said to be wielded by the Great Hero. You are the only one who can make use of it.”

“Eh- Alright…” the man was confused by that, but decided not to question it, and he could've smiled in amusement. If anything, at least this person would be entertaining to question. “What’s all this about a ‘Great Hero’, anyways?”

“Ah, yes…” he looked to the side, choosing his next words. “The Empire is in… dire need of your assistance, and so I was sent to summon you here.” 

The Great Hero nearly gawked. “ _ My _ assistance?” 

“Why yes. Legend says, if one is to raise the divine Breidablik in the ruins of Vaskrheim, the Great Hero shall come forth to bring peace to Zenith,” he recited. “I did just that, and you appeared. Hence, you are the Great Hero we have been waiting for.”

As expected, the seemingly ever-expressive Great Hero made the most delightful skeptical face he'd ever laid eyes on.

“I… don't quite get it yet, you might need to give me some more context,” the man eventually mumbled, continuing to play along. He supposed the Princess would certainly find this one amusing.

“Of course, you are new to this realm, after all,” he conceded. “But not here. We ought to get moving.”

With that, he turned and made a beeline for the wyvern continuing to eat grass where he left it. He was already dreading being airborne again, but no matter. The sooner they got back to the Empire, the better.

“Wait- What?” the Great Hero blurted out, apparently having been struck into silence by something. Had it been the wyvern? Well, if he was correct in magic not existing in his realm, then one could stand to reason some of the fauna was different as well. And wyverns were, after all, very magically aligned, even if their magic resistance left much to be desired.

“We should go back to the Empire as soon as possible, this is not welcome territory for me,” he half-explained, his mood ruined by the reminder of having to fly to go back home. Still, he turned to the other and offered a hand. “I'm afraid you'll have to ride with me, Great Hero.”

The man obviously bit back more questions, and accepted his help to get atop the saddle. 

He surmised, once the other was finally seated up with the cylinder in his arms, that he had probably never ridden a horse before, much less a wyvern.

He had also gotten a chance to hold the red cylinder, and was surprised to discover three things about it. Or, well, four. First, it was  _ heavy _ . Embla, was it heavy. Second, it was made out of some metal, though he couldn't discern which one and the bright red color wasn't helping at all. Third, it had writing on it – or at least, it looked like writing. He couldn't understand a word of it, and none of the symbols matched up with the Emblian Alphabet. This, of course, meant the Great Hero had a whole different alphabet in his realm that he was going to assume he could read. Maybe he couldn't, but he didn't have enough information to discern whether he was literate or not. Fourth, the black rope attached to the contraption was… a strange material. It felt like leather, but at the same time not.

All that combined with the fact it had produced something like chalk dust to put out a fire meant he was very much intrigued by that… that apparatus.

But he was getting distracted.

He climbed atop the wyvern to sit behind the other man so his arms and the reins could act as railings for him if anything happened. He kept a respectful distance between them, and then urged the beast to take off.

If he heard the Great Hero attempt – successfully enough, might he add – to hold back a scream, he didn't comment on it.

The Great Hero did a wonderful job in masking his fear evident only in how tight he was gripping the cylinder. Aside from that, however, once the initial scare seemed to pass and the wyvern went into gliding mode he discovered the man looking over the sides at the land far below, to the lush green fields of Askr. Always so beautiful.

The man’s awe, however, made him wonder if perhaps this was his first time airborne.

Several minutes passed in silence before his companion found his voice again.

“Okay, so what's the deal; is this empire of yours at war or something?” the Great Hero inquired. He wasn't exactly sure what was the first thing he'd said, but it didn't seem to matter much for the rest of the sentence, so he refrained from asking.

“The Emblian Empire, yes,” he hummed, feigning thoughtfulness. “We find ourselves at war with the Askran Kingdom, where we're currently at.”

“We're in enemy territory?!” the man exclaimed, surprised. It took him a lot not to chuckle. This wasn't good, he couldn't afford to be like that once they reached the castle.

“Vaskrheim happens to be located in Asrk, so I had to make my way here in order to bring you to Zenith,” he said, unfaced, like it was an easy task. To be fair, with an illusion spell on, it was.

A clear  _ ‘how did you even get in without anyone spotting you?’ _ hung unasked in the air, and he found it amusing.

“Well- but why are you guys at war with them?” the man asked instead.

“Political problems,” was all he answered, because that was a rabbit hole he didn't want to dig into at the moment.

The Great Hero bit back yet more questions, and they lapsed into a calmed silence interrupted only by the strong winds around them.

He should've probably been paying attention to any possible Askran troops below, but he found himself far too absorbed in his deciphering of this young, small man he'd summoned into their realm.

The Great Hero’s clear teal eyes scanned the ground far below with the intensity of someone trying to take in all the information at once. Maybe this  _ was _ his first time airborne. Or perhaps it was simply a matter of this being a different world entirely from his’, and everything seemed so brand new.

After an hour or so, however, the man’s expression turned distant, and he realized he didn't like that, for some reason. They were gliding over the lush forest to the north of Askr, meaning they were nearing the bordering mountain range separating them from the Empire. One would think, the first time seeing a forest from up high would have  _ everyone _ in awe at the sight. And yet there was the Great Hero, staring down at the mass of vegetation with his gaze somewhere else, his expression a bitter melancholy.

Was this…

Was this homesickness already? Was this too different from his realm?

He decided those were far too many questions after having known the man for not even a day.

After three hours of nonstop flight and with the sun having set in the horizon to the west, he finally landed the wyvern in the main balcony of the castle. Two stable hands from the keeps quickly appeared from one of the side stairs, probably having spotted them approaching from afar.

“Take her back to the keeps, she's flown a long way,” he instructed, and the two men bowed before taking a side passage with the beast in tow. He turned to the Great Hero, looking on at the wyvern. “Come, this way.”

He walked him through the castle without stopping to explain a single thing. Right now, he knew the only thing the other could do was sleep and maybe take a bath to get rid of all that grime on him. After all, the Princess was already asleep by that hour and the meeting would probably take place tomorrow morning.

So he walked with him in tow all the way to the easternmost tower, which housed the unused personal chambers spanning the top two floors of the tower and looking over to the ocean below the cliff the castle was built upon. Tonight, the moon was clearly seen from the balcony that led to the doors into the chambers.

This was, not coincidentally at all, also the only room in the entire castle that could only be accessed through one direction, seeing as the balcony ended but a couple of feet past the doors and the free space was occupied by two empty flower pots.

“These are the personal chambers that have been designated for you, Great Hero,” he informed, opening the doors wide for him to go in.

“Eh- for me?” the man let out dumbly. 

He watched the other walk in and admire the place in awe and surprise, though there was something else in his eyes that he couldn't quite pinpoint. He supposed, with so many emotions showing through at once, some would be impossible to discern.   
That… could prove to be a problem.

The base floor was a wide studio with empty bookshelves waiting to be filled lining the walls, stained glass windows covered by curtains that hadn’t allowed them to see in as they passed by from outside. There was a staircase leading up to the bedroom, but it was too dark to see.

He instructed him on where to find the matches and oil for the lanterns, and how to activate the magic-powered bathroom. He also told him a maid would be coming around soon to give him a nightgown, but that tomorrow morning more would come wake him up to take his measurements so they could see to making any necessary adjustments to the clothes the council had decided upon to serve as garments for the Great Hero.

“Seeing as we arrived later than expected, the meeting with Princess Veronica will be held tomorrow after breakfast,” he informed.

“I’m meeting the princess…?” the man mumbled out, surprised. He couldn’t help but notice the same emotion remained undetected in his tone, and it was slightly irksome.

“Why, of course,” he was serious, trying not to be bothered by it. Embla, the first person he’d found he could read like a book and he was already getting frustrated when there was something he couldn’t understand. Like there weren’t people in the castle whom he couldn’t even face from the disgust of their fake smiles covering what truly laid beneath. ”You are the Great Hero, we have been expecting you for some time now.”

With that, he walked away, intent on leaving the man to get comfortable in the chambers. He might be overly curious with this new… asset, to the castle; but he wasn’t one to overstay his welcome.

“Hey- Wait,” the man called, as if suddenly remembering something. He stopped in his tracks to look back over his shoulder, patient. “You never told me your name, what am I supposed to call you?”

“My name is Bruno,” he mused. For the first time in the day, he cracked a smile after that, though it seemed a bit too eerie for the other man’s taste if the slight hardening of his gaze was anything to go by. “But you can call me Prince Bruno of Embla, oh Great Hero.”


	2. The Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Great Hero meets Veronica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the reason why i'm uploading this chapter so quickly is bc i had the first couple of chapters of this fic written beforehand hahah;;  
> and now i'm entering finals week, so i'm sorry if it takes a bit for the next update of both this fic n Worlds.  
> (i say a bit but, then again, i rarely if ever take longer than two weeks to update so)
> 
> anyway yeah i hope you enjoy!

Bruno had to admit, he hadn’t expected he’d be able to sneak back into his personal chambers without crossing paths with any of the senators. Tomorrow, he promised himself, tomorrow he’d deal with them. They would then leave for their villas for another week, and there would be blessed peace in the castle. For the most part.   
Now, he needed to set some things in order before calling it a day.

Placing the Great Hero in the secluded tower was a double edged sword he was acutely aware of. For one, he could oversee all his movements (as in, when he left and entered his room) from his window looking directly to the balcony where his doors were located, which meant there were only so many corridors he could take before getting to the foyer. On the other hand, however, that also meant his precious new asset was essentially trapped up there if anything were to happen.

But, he supposed, the added advantage of no senators being able to sneak into his chambers without him noticing far outweighted the drawbacks. He’d gone through all the trouble of bringing him here, he was not about to let anything happen to his newly acquired chess piece.

He’d made sure in instructing the maids about leaving any color but golden out of his clothes. He couldn’t have him around in the Imperial red hue of the Princess and the senators, much less in his subdued purple; that would be far too telling. For now, it was best the Great Hero stayed in neutral black and whites to hide his allegiances.   
Not that he had any, so far.

He’d also been careful about handpicking the maids that would be assigned to him, the two brunettes that had become quick friends the moment they started working in the castle. The senators had complained about how those two had not been with them for long enough to entrust them the necessities of the soon to be Great Hero, but thankfully the Princess had managed to read his intentions quickly enough to shut them up.

The less affiliated the maids serving him were with the senators, the better.

Other than that, tomorrow would be a matter of explaining the situation to him and praying to whatever gods were up so early for nothing to go wrong.

Needless to say, he didn’t get much rest that night.

Come morning, he dressed himself and made a beeline for the foyer – that is, the one relegated to the top floor chambers, meaning it was only actually accessible by the Princess, himself, and now the Great Hero, too.

As usual, Veronica was probably still asleep, so he took his seat by the table and waited for the butlers to notice he’d arrived and start making breakfast.

It was still relatively early and he only had coffee in front of him by the time he started hearing steps down the hallway, the one that led to the eastern towers. In that direction one could only access the observatory, his personal library (it wasn’t, really, but he was the only one that used it), the least staffed watchtower, and the Great Hero’s new chambers.   
So it wasn’t much of a surprise when in came the two maids assigned to him, apparently dragging him into the foyer while he kept hiding behind them.

“Okay, okay, slow down!” came the Great Hero’s voice, apparently mortified. Oh? “I’ll go, just slow down! I can barely walk in these!”

“That just won’t do, Great Hero, you need to get used to those clothes!” one of the maids admonished.

“The clothes aren’t the problem, it’s these shoes!” the Great Hero insisted.

To Bruno’s amusement, the maids had just managed to enter the foyer and part to the sides to stop dragging him in when the Great Hero made a kicking motion so his left boot would show past the long fabric of the tunic (it looked a lot like a dress, but he supposed Veronica was to blame for this), his arms motioning towards it exaggeratedly.

“Whatever could you mean, those are normal boots!” the other maid placed her hands on her hips.

“What part of this is normal?!” the Great Hero sounded horrified. “It’s covered in metal! I can barely move my foot in there! And the heels!”

There was senseless bickering for a moment more while Bruno checked out of the conversation to think about what he was witnessing for a moment. He was honestly surprised the Great Hero had allowed the maids to boss him around so quickly. If he had to guess, the two of them had dragged him out of his chambers despite his many protests about the footwear, which he still couldn’t see the problem with. Perhaps he was used to the leather boots most common folk wore? That would explain his discomfort. Aside from that, it seemed the rest of the clothes Veronica had handpicked looked just fine on him. His black dre-- tunic, was adorned with the classic golden patterns of the Empire, and the belt they’d ordered made worked perfectly in hooking the divine relic to his hip.   
However, he couldn’t help but notice he’d forgone wearing the headpiece the senators had been so insistent on adding. He also couldn’t help the small satisfaction he felt from knowing that the only thing those bastards had contributed to the outfit ideas had been discarded on the first day.

“But you are wearing leather boots!” the argument continued, the Great Hero providing yet again most of the dramatics of the scene by making an exaggerated motion with both hands towards the maids’ boots.

“But you are a member of the court! We need you to wear those, imperial orders!” the maids insisted.

The Great Hero made a show of pouting, crossing his arms over his chest as he shifted aimlessly in place, probably feeling his boots against the floor.

“Fine, whatever,” he eventually relented, but there was something in his gaze that told Bruno the discussion wasn’t really over. He pointed to the pieces of clothing the maids were holding. ”Didn’t you two want to go wash that?” 

“Ah, yes!” one of them seemed to remember. “We promise we’ll bring them back as soon as they’re dry, Great Hero.”

“I don’t really care, you can use them as rags for all that matters,” he huffed. “They stink. They can’t be salvaged.”

The maids pointedly ignored his quips, curtsied, and made a beeline for the corridor used by the castle staff to access the inner rooms of the complex, possibly headed for the laundry.

The Great Hero continued to shift uncomfortably on his spot, clearly not used to the boots at all, watching the maids disappear behind the hidden door.

“You might want to take a seat,” Bruno offered, catching his attention. “Breakfast should arrive soon.”

The man mumbled an exasperated thanks before taking the chair on the opposite side of the table from him, fumbling about with his dre-  _ tunic _ , for a moment.   
So maybe he wasn’t used to gowns, either.

“Do I really have to wear these?” he asked, meekly, as if somehow his authority was enough to overrule that decision. Little did he know, the Great Hero was technically placed above him in the power pyramid. He probably hadn’t realized yet. Perhaps he should keep it that way.

“Unless you’d rather walk barefoot around the castle, I’d suggest you bear with it,” Bruno simply said, punctuating his intention in dropping that squabble by taking a sip of his coffee.

The Great Hero sighed in defeat, gaze wonderfully downcast and expression brilliantly disappointed. Oh, he could just sit back and enjoy the show that was his face.

“Is that coffee?” he asked instead, eyeing his cup.

“It is indeed.”

“Can I have some, too?”

_ I don't know, can you? _ , Bruno’s mind immediately supplied, but then he remembered he wasn’t speaking to Veronica. “By all means, we’ll ask the butler when he comes around.”

The silence that settled on them was thankfully broken by breakfast arriving, and he didn’t forget to ask for another cup of coffee to be brought to the table. It would be some time before Veronica showed up, so there was no need to ask for the warm milk to be brought yet.

“So…” the man began, fork twiddling with the scrambled eggs. “You’re the prince.”

“That is a correct statement, yes.”

“Then why were you the one sent into enemy territory to bring me here?” he quirked a brow, confused, and Bruno drank in the expression along with his coffee. “Couldn’t that task have been delegated to someone else?”

“I might be the prince, Great Hero, but I am not directly in line to take the throne.” he explained, simple. The other’s brows rose in mild surprise. “I don’t find much favor in this court.”

“You’re a bastard child?” the Great Hero asked, and his bluntness amused him.

“No, not exactly,” he shook his head no, setting his cup down. “I just happen to be caught in the middle of the political problems of this castle.”

The Great Hero made a non-commital noise, apparently aware he wasn’t going to tell him anything else, and they stopped the conversation to eat.

Sometime later, Bruno heard decisive yet short footsteps clanking against the floor coming from the corridor leading to the central tower.

Veronica had woken up early.

He asked the butler coming to take some of the plates for the warm milk, and turned his attention to the corridor to see her enter the foyer.

Judging by how her hair was not a mess this morning, she had probably been aware the Great Hero would be present at breakfast and had made sure to make an effort and look presentable before eating.

“I take it you’re Princess Veronica?” the Great Hero asked, without fear, and also not entirely thrilled. Apparently, he still hadn’t gotten over the boots ordeal.

The Princess caught herself before she could rise her brows in surprise at how unexpected that had been, and managed to proceed to the only empty chair in the table and sit down without jolting to a stop to process his words.

“That would be me, yes,” she nodded after getting comfortable on her seat, tone dismissive and obviously displeased with how the conversation had started. If the Great Hero noticed, he didn’t seem to care. “It’s an honor to finally have you with us, Great Hero,” a pause. Bruno almost wanted to encourage her to continue, that she was doing just fine, but didn’t want to die just yet. “I’m afraid the Empire is in need of your help.”

“So I’ve been told,” the Great Hero hummed, unceremoniously tossing a piece of bread into his mouth. He paused to eat, and Bruno could feel Veronica’s annoyance rising. Well, this was going wonderfully. “Though I still don’t know what exactly is it that you lot want me to do.”

“That depends on where your strengths lie,” Veronica nearly shrugged.

“Goodness gracious, this is a war you’re talking about, right?” the Great Hero chuckled, apparently amused. Bruno was confused for a second, trying to decipher what exactly had caused this change in mood. “Sorry. ‘M afraid you’ve summoned a useless person for this task. You might want to reconsider sending me back and bringing someone else: I ain’t got strengths in the art of making war.”

“That’s not possible,” Bruno simply denied. That seemed to make the Great Hero pause.

“Wh… Which part isn’t possible?” he asked, softly, his eyes afraid.

“All of it,” he mused. “Our only other point of reference would be the past Great Hero, but they chose to stay in Zenith. Therefore, we have no idea how to send you back, or if it’s even possible – let alone bringing someone else so soon after you.”

The Great Hero’s hand holding the bread twitched, and his expression remained frozen blank for a moment. Bruno’s brow almost furrowed. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? With his eyes distant like that, he couldn’t tell what was lurking beneath the surface.

Look at him. He’d barely gotten the chance to interact with this open book of emotions and he’d already grown used to being able to discern exactly what his superficial feelings were. So much so that in the instances in which he couldn’t, it was frustrating.

He needed to calm down.

“Well- If you can’t send me back then what…” he began, slowly, trailing off. It was evident there was something else he’d been about to say, but decided against it last second. His expression hardened into a cautious one. “Surely, there must be something else you expect me to do that doesn’t have anything to do with the personal abilities that I don’t have.”

“Yes, you’d be correct,” Veronica conceded, her focus on the food instead of him. Maybe that was for the best. “Breidablik, the sacred relic you carry, is supposed to be capable of bringing forth Heroes to aid us, as well as mobilizing entire armies in the span of seconds.”

The Great Hero’s brow furrowed and he not-so-discreetly glanced down at the relic on his hip.

“Heroes,” he deadpanned, halfway between a skeptical statement and a question.

“Yes, Heroes,” Veronica humored him, but didn’t bother explaining. So the Great Hero spared Bruno a glance, as if asking him to elaborate in the Princess’ stead.

“Zenith is a realm closely connected to many others. There are numerous gateways spread all over Kingdom territory that lead to these worlds,” he twirled a butter knife between his fingers, trying not to snicker at the look of full attention the Great Hero was giving him. “The sacred relic is supposed to have the ability to summon powerful Heroes from these worlds, who then come to aid the Great Hero in their struggle. Much how I summoned you here through a ritual, the relic can bring these Heroes by your hands.”

“O...kay. What about mobilizing entire armies?” the Great Hero’s skepticism returned.

“It’s found on the records, though I’m afraid we haven’t the faintest idea how that was done in the past,” Veronica admitted.

“And you expect me to figure it out on my own?” he nearly huffed.

“Not really, that might be asking far too much of you,” Veronica shook her head no, but her tone was slightly condescending. The Great Hero’s lips pursed into a thin line, so it was safe to say he noticed and didn’t like it. “We require help to turn this stalemate with Askr around and finally unite Duneyrr under the Emblian banner.”

There was silence for a moment as the butler came around once again to retrieve the empty plates and set a glass of warm milk in front of Veronica.

“Let me see if I got this right,” the Great Hero spoke the second the butler was out of earshot. “You want me to summon powerful warriors and order them to aid you in conquering what I’m assuming is the continent?”

“If we want to get blunt, then yes,” the Princess nodded, and the Great Hero turned his gaze to him. Bruno stayed immobile.

“Why?” the man asked, and Veronica had to blink past the surprise. Suffice to say, she hadn’t expected that question, and the Great Hero must’ve realized, for he decided to add. “Why does the Empire want to unite the continent under their banner?”

“Why, it’s what we ought to do,” Veronica’s tone grew harsher. “Centuries ago, the people of Askr broke our alliance, decided they wanted to govern over their own land, and split from the settlers to head south and start their kingdom. We were once a unified people, and as such we should strive to return to that,” a pause, and she set her empty glass down. “Under the Empire’s banner, of course. Only we have enough military strenght to protect the countless sacred places found in this continent.”

“Do you, truly?” the Great Hero quipped, tone accusing. “Is that the only reason? Complete dominance over the continent?”

“Mind you, we also have our own people to look after,” Veronica sat back, her words a calculated stone cold statement piling over the other. “Embla is a land of difficult terrain. Askr is packed with lush green fields and bountiful farmlands. If anything, we are certainly interested in those resources.”

Silence settled over them as the Great Hero’s expression turned into one of disgust hidden behind mild anger. There was something else in his eyes, however, that Bruno could only categorize as disappointment. But disappointment in what? What had he been expecting the Empire to be like? What had he been expecting the Princess to be like? What had he been expecting his role in this to be like?

Or was there perhaps something else in this that he wasn’t grasping? It could very well be the case. 

Before he spoke again, Bruno could’ve sworn he saw him shift through a million sentences before settling on,

“I won’t do that.”

The silence turned sepulchral, and Bruno could’ve cut the tension with his hidden dagger.

“What?” Veronica seethed.

“You heard me,” the Great Hero challenged. “I’m not going to help you trample over another country’s land just because you can’t properly tend to your own.”

“Excuse you?” the Princess demanded, baffled.

“If it’s resources you need, then you could just suck it up and ask for trade routes,” the Great Hero stated, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. Bruno paid special attention. “Surely there must be something you have that they don’t. And unifying the continent isn’t enough reason to start a war. So no, little princess, I’m not helping you.”

There was silence for a beat before Veronica sat back in her seat, apparently relaxing.

Bruno wondered if this was where she decided to show her fangs.

“Very well, then,” the Princess stated with carefully hidden anger. Alright, this was it. A small change of plans, but nothing he couldn’t work around. Perhaps it was for the best. “In that case, Great Hero, allow me to break it to you: you have no choice.”

His lips pursed, but he didn’t utter another word.   
So, clearly, he had already suspected as much. Bruno should’ve expected this.

“In half an hour the council will assemble at the audience chamber in the second floor and you  _ will _ summon a Hero to demonstrate where your allegiances lie, else the guards will have you executed for attempting to harm the Empire,” the Princess continued, dead serious. “Whether you then choose to do the smart thing and cooperate or not, is up to you. But know this,” she leaned over the table, “if you so much as step out of this castle without either of us you will be arrested for suspicious behaviour, and subsequently thrown into a cell in the dungeon for ignoring imperial orders.”

Seeing as the Great Hero didn’t have anything to say to that, the Princess stood up and walked back to the corridor leading to her chambers, chin high.

“I’ll see you then, Great Hero,” she mumbled, annoyed, exiting the room.

Bruno stood up as well, though far more calmed and indifferent.

“I have some matters to attend to, if you’ll excuse me.” 

The Great Hero made no move to say or do anything, and so he left.

Time to assemble the senators, a task he was absolutely not looking forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the best Emblian Brat makes her appearance! it's still super fun to write her and i still don't know why,,,,
> 
> the Great Hero: god i sure hope this fucking isekai adventure isn't a deconstruction or subversion of the genre or whatever it is they call it bc i sure as hell want to live in a peaceful kindom or fight for a just cause.  
> the senators and Veronica: haha war machine go brrrr
> 
> also the Great Hero: what are THOSE?!  
> Bruno: they are my boots
> 
> anyway i hope you're liking this so far and thank you for reading!


	3. Whose Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Great Hero summons a Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! finals are over and i have a month of winter break so i'm back to writing!

Half an hour later, as promised, the Princess and the senate had gathered in the audience chamber and were waiting for the Great Hero to arrive. Bruno pretended not to listen to the murmur of the people in the room, already discussing how to best utilize this new power they were going to be granted. The fools.  
With the orb especially prepared for this summoning ritual, seeing as they lacked the summoning platform located in Askr, he waited outside the doors for the sound of unwilling steps being dragged by more assertive ones.  
And yet, the Great Hero appeared alone.

He walked up to him without another word, his face set into a stern expression of anger… but anger with his own person. So that was certainly interesting.  
He stopped himself from continuing the scrutinizing and extended the crystal orb between his hands to him.

“This should provide you with the power necessary to activate Breidablik’s ability to summon Heroes,” Bruno informed as he took it, observing it carefully. “Normally, this act would take place in a summoning platform, but the only existing one happens to be located in Askr, so this will have to do.”

“In Askr?” the Great Hero inquired, though his tone indicated it was rhetorical. His gaze was harsh when it landed back on him, even if he had a mask between the man’s stare and his eyes. “The place where you brought me here was also there, wasn’t it?”

“Vaskrheim, yes,” he confirmed, unsure where this was going.

“Hm, so Vaskrheim and the summoning platform are both located in Askr. It almost seems as though these powers were entrusted to them, doesn’t it?”

Bruno said nothing to that.

“Tell me, did you also happen to find Breidablik in Kingdom territory?” the Great Hero asked, his words cold.

Bruno remained silent.

For a moment, he thought he’d say something else. Accuse him of stealing the relic and walk into the room after a final glance of disgust in his direction.  
However, he instead unhooked Breidablik and extended it to him along with the orb.  
He wasn’t sure what to think of that.

“Here,” he insisted, all harshness and anger gone from his voice. Bruno found himself confused. “When you next see the maids, tell them it was nice meeting them.”

Before he had the time to process those last words, his arms shot up on reflexes to catch the two objects the other dropped in front of him when he realized he wasn’t reacting. He snapped out of his confusion and balanced the things onto one arm just in time to stretch the other to the side and stop him from walking towards the closed doors.  
The Great Hero stopped in his tracks so as to not bump into his arm, but made no move other than that.  
Bruno suddenly understood what he planned to do.

“Listen-”

“No,” he interrupted, gaze blank and unreadable. Oh, Bruno didn’t like that. “Let me through.”

“Great Hero, would you please just-”

“I said no,” he insisted, impassive. “I am not going to help an Empire trample over another kingdom just because they suck at managing their own lands and are entitled enough to think they have the right to take over the entire continent.”

“That’s-”

“This realm is beautiful,” he stated, and the shift in his tone made Bruno pause. His gaze fell where the closed doors met the floor. ”I barely got to see it, and yet I know…” he trailed off, finally raising his head to look at him. “You have to keep it that way.”

There was silence for a moment as the Great Hero stared him up and he tried not to show his inner debate.  
It was far too early to reveal his true intentions. He risked too much by having him in on the plan. And yet, he risked far more letting him inside that room without orb nor relic, ready to die young.  
It seemed this was the only choice.

“I need you alive,” he stated, voice lowered to barely above a whisper, afraid any passing maid would hear them. There was a small shift in the melancholy of his gaze, and somewhere below the harshness was returning. He hurried to say something else. “I cannot speak to you of this here, but please- You cannot die here. Not yet.”

“And you expect me to trust you?”

“Your life is on the line.”

“That’s not much,” the other shrugged.

“It is for this realm, Great Hero,” he insisted.

They stared each other down for a moment too long before the man sighed silently, sadness passing over his gaze for a fraction of a second.

“You can just call me Kiran, you know,” he relented, defeated, taking the relic and the orb from his hands. Kiran? “I do have a name, after all.”

Bruno stood straight, taken slightly aback by that.  
Kiran.  
He hadn’t bothered asking, had he?

“Let’s go, then,” Kiran sighed one more time, walking up to the closed doors. “Let’s see a real Hero.”

He decided not to comment on that and pushed the doors open to let him through.  
Crisis averted, now he would just have to adjust his plans to this new variable.

Veronica was seated on the only chair in the room, directly across from them crossing the doors. The senators were standing around the Princess, all with equally impatient expressions to varying degrees of annoyance.  
The ten most disgusting people Bruno had ever met – that still lived, that is.

“Good, you showed up,” Veronica mused, bored, as he walked past the Great Hero- past Kiran, to take a spot next to his sister. “Well then, let’s see it. The relic is supposed to be capable of summoning Heroes.”

Kiran looked between Breidablik and the orb, probably trying to figure out how to even do it. His hand holding the relic positioned itself yet again in that strange manner he’d seen before at Vaskrheim, his fingers wrapped around the most narrow handle and his index hovering over the loose piece of metal he’d always suspected needed reparation.  
He shifted in his place, uncomfortable with his stance (the boots, perhaps?), and raised the orb on the palm of his other hand until it was at head level.  
Then he tossed it into the air, much to everyone’s shock. His free hand quickly wrapped itself over the one on the relic, and his indexes seemed to press onto something the instant the orb was falling in front of him.  
There was light.  
There was a shattering noise.  
There was wind, there was a confused yelp from the Great Hero, and the senators all covered their eyes from the brightness.

When those present recovered from the surprise and their eyes adjusted back to the usual lighting, they looked towards the Great Hero to find someone else standing in front of him.  
This person was half a head taller than him, dressed in loose white and blue clothes, and currently taking a small bow before Kiran.  
Whatever words they exchanged, they were muffled over and rendered unintelligible by the rise in exclamations and celebrations from among the senators.  
Bruno tried not to pay attention to their comments, to how they praised Veronica for having brought them such wonderful power while at the same time reminding her with passive aggressive smiles and compliments that they had agreed to use this power in the war and as such expected results in the conflict.  
He kept quiet, one hand on the chair trying not to grip it too harshly, maintaining his role as the Princess’ retainer, which none of the senators bothered even acknowledging.

Eventually, they filed out of the room one by one, their personal servants coming to fetch them to leave to their respective villas away from the castle.  
Thank Embla.

“You made the right choice, Great Hero,” Veronica mused, standing up from the chair, intent on leaving.

“Did I?” Kiran asked back, gaze melancholic but words harsh. The Hero he’d summoned shifting their- his, body, protectively towards him.

The Princess didn’t grace him with an answer, and left the audience chamber through one of the secret passages after nodding a ‘see you later’ to Bruno, which he responded to in kind.

“And the people suffer,” the Hero mumbled absentmindedly, sharp emerald gaze set on where Veronica disappeared to. He had a melodious voice, and by the lack of any apparent weapon on him- no, he was holding a tome. Alright, that meant he was a mage of some kind, interesting.

“You wanted to talk?” Kiran turned to Bruno, sighing.

“We ought to head to my personal chambers, in that case,” he corrected, and the other made a noise of comprehension. He turned to the newcomer, managing an apologetic tone. “Despite the situation, I am actually honored to have you here. Your name is…?”

“Lewyn,” the Hero revealed, calmed, gaze much mellow yet still seemingly capable of staring straight into his soul.

Bruno nodded, and motioned for them both to follow him.  
So, while the three men made their way to his personal chambers through a set of secret passages, he turned the situation over his head and thought how to better explain it all in a way that wouldn’t result in the Great Hero giving him a disappointed stare.

They arrived after some five minutes of walking, emerging on the corridor leading directly to his doors. He unlocked them, held them for the other two to enter, and closed them tightly behind his back. With a flick of his wrist, electricity coursed through the room, activating several of his hand-made artifacts and providing the spark needed to start the small flames of the candles illuminating the place. The Hero let out a soft whistle of interest, probably even admiration, as Bruno returned the books stacked on top of the armchairs he didn’t use to their rightful places.

“You might want to sit down,” he indicated, quickly arranging the tomes by pure muscle memory. His chambers were a mess of books and papers, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. It wasn’t as if this place ever looked different, no maids nor butlers were allowed in here.

He heard them getting comfortable on the two recently emptied armchairs, and finished arranging the loose papers over another pile of books to the side. Dusting his hands off absentmindedly (even if his room wasn’t particularly dusty), he took a seat on his usual couch and breathed in, organizing his thoughts.

“Maybe you could start by answering a question I have,” Kiran provided, soft, his voice devoid of any harshness. It was clear he hadn’t liked having to summon a Hero that could potentially cause him to be thrown into the war, and was trying to come to terms with- or, rather, resign himself to this outcome. Regardless, Bruno nodded, thankful. “Whose idea was it?”

There was silence for a beat.

“To summon you?” he tried, unsure. Kiran nodded, and he leaned back on the couch. “It was my idea.”

“Of course it was,” a small chuckle left him, but it didn’t hold the smallest ounce of happiness, or even amusement. His gaze returned to him. “Why?”

“The Empire’s situation is precarious, and I’m not talking about the war,” Bruno began, serious. “I can’t fault you if you didn’t notice, but Princess Veronica doesn’t exactly hold much power when it comes down to it. The senators- the ten people you saw at the audience chamber, are the ones who make most of the decisions in this court.”

“So it’s not as if the Princess doesn’t have any power, but more so that she can’t afford to go against the wishes of all ten of them,“ Lewyn provided, and he nodded. Good, someone quick on the uptake was always appreciated.

“They hold administrative dominion over ten of the eleven regions the Empire has been divided in since the day of its foundation, the eleventh being Hervör, the capital, where my sister has complete and absolute control,“ he continued. “As such, like you said, she cannot afford to not have them on her side. This war is something we inherited from our father, and we cannot end it since it’s something these same ten senators voted for back when the Emperor was alive.“

There was silence for a moment.

“And what does your sister want?“ Kiran asked, cautious.

“Whatever will get the council to support her to ensure her eventual rule of the Empire won’t face internal opposition. That means if the senators want this war to continue, then she plans to abide by that,” Bruno shook his head, already tired. “She wants the best for Embla, she truly does; it just so happens that she was raised to believe the best for Embla was taking over the resources Askr is ‘hoarding’ and uniting the continent under our banner. I’m not trying to defend her, but I do hope I, or someone else, will be able to make her reconsider.“

“You say it as though you don’t support this war yourself,” Kiran pointed out.

“I do not,” Bruno agreed. “I do not support it. Embla’s people have gone far too long under the strenuous difficulties this war places on them, and what for? I haven’t the faintest idea.”

Kiran was confused by that. “What do you mean?”

“There is trouble brewing in this castle, Great Hero, trouble far beyond my comprehension,” Bruno hummed. “This war is a result of said trouble, a trouble that does not concern our people. It needs to end, or it will end us all.”

That made the room go quiet for a moment.

“I have a question,” the Hero shuffled in his seat, meaning his question wasn’t exactly related to what they had just digressed into.

“What is it?”

“Aren’t you older than the Princess?“ Lewyn questioned, one leg crossed over the other. “Why is she the one who will take the throne?“

“My mother was accused of sharing imperial secrets with the Kingdom, and was kept in a cell until the day she passed,“ he explained. “Veronica’s mother died of illness shortly after having her. Therefore, while I was originally raised by my mother, my sister was taken under the Emperor’s charge immediately. Everything he told her, she believed,“ a pause. “So, since I had always been skeptical about the Emperor, the second they had the chance to get rid of my mother, they took advantage of the commotion and half-disowned me, turning me into Veronica’s warden of sorts.“

“Well, that explains why they sent you to Vaskrheim instead of someone else,“ Kiran mused. “They really don’t care about what happens to you.“

“Of course,” Bruno cracked a wicked smile involuntarily. “They know I’m the only one keeping Veronica from completely turning to their side.“

“Then what is your plan, bringing me here? Aren’t you giving them just what they want?“ Kiran asked, quirking a brow, Oh, he might never get tired of that expression.

“If I gave them something they didn’t want, they wouldn’t accept it,“ he hummed, one of his fingers tapping over his knuckles. “I have to give it to them like a present, beautiful, wrapped in golden ribbon, and ready to help.“

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,“ Kiran admitted, the slightest bit sheepish.

“While it is true the Great Hero ended a war by turning the tides considerably, that’s not the only thing they did,“ Bruno chose his words, thinking how to best explain it. “It’s said they also brought immeasurable technological advancements, and that they possessed the wisdom of someone who’d lived for centuries without forgetting a single thing.”

“But I’m not…” the Great Hero began, trailing off once Bruno raised a hand in a stop sign.

“It has been speculated that it wasn’t the Great Hero themselves the one with these mind boggling abilities, but rather, their realm was so vastly different from Zenith that they had a well of knowledge to pull from to face scenarios which would’ve otherwise been daunting tasks for us, if not downright impossible.“

There was silence for a moment as he took in his words and the Hero seemed content just listening in.

“I have told you before and I will tell you again: the Empire is in dire need of your assistance; whether they know it yet or not,” he stated, serious. “I summoned you here to help me- help the Empire. To put an end to this senseless conflict, both in and out of the battlefield.”

Kiran inhaled, deeply, and then exhaled, slowly.  
He turned to the Hero, who shrugged nonchalant.

“The best way to change a country is from the inside, after all,” Lewyn mused, fingers fiddling with the golden rings at the ends of his scarf.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I have any other option, anyway,” the Great Hero mumbled, looking down.

His gaze was distant for a moment as he stared at his hands, probably thinking over the situation.

“Alright,” he eventually let out, looking back up at Bruno. “Alright, I’ll help you. Though I still have no idea what exactly it is that I’m supposed to do.”

“From what I’ve seen so far, given you are against this war as well, I believe giving your honest input and opinions and standing your ground on those will be enough,” he hummed, pensive. “Although directly and explicitly opposing the war might get you into trouble. Regardless, you are the Great Hero now. The court is required to consult with you before deciding anything,” a pause. “Still, I’m afraid I might not be able to back you up openly if it comes to that. It wouldn’t do for the senators to find out we’re… well…”

“In cahoots, I get it. Can’t ruin your reputation.”

“It’s your reputation the one at stake here, actually,” Lewyn pointed out, taking the words right out of Bruno’s mouth. “He is already shunned by the council, so he doesn’t really stand to lose much when it comes to position. You are the one who they still believe is on their side.”

“If they were to find out we’re affiliated, it would be troublesome,” Bruno nodded. “At least for now. Once things start to change it might get to the point where it won’t matter anymore, but we’ll have to see.”

There was silence for a moment as the Great Hero finished wrapping his head around the situation.

“I have one more question,” he murmured after a moment.

“What is it?”

“How old is Princess Veronica?”

“Fifteen, turning sixteen very soon.”

Bruno wasn’t entirely certain he understood why the Great Hero and the Great Hero alone made so shocked and terrified a face after that small revelation.  
But at his lack of any comment on the matter whatsoever, both Bruno and the Hero seemed to conclude it was for the best they didn’t ask.

After that, Bruno instructed the Great Hero on how to get back to his chambers from there and told him the maids would fetch him for dinner later. They watched him amble down the corridor, still clearly uncomfortable with those boots, before he turned to the Hero to show him to his designated room.

“Why does he walk like that?” Lewyn asked halfway through the next corridor, curious.

“I believe he’s never worn metallic boots, he complained about them during the morning,” Bruno hummed. “It might be because of that.”

“Poor soul,” the Hero commented.

Bruno was almost inclined to agree with him, if not for the fact that Kiran made a very distinct sound when he walked. He knew the footsteps of everyone in the castle, and having his’ be so distinguishable from the get-go was nothing if not a blessing.  
Lewyn’s, he noted, were slow and methodical, the walking pace of someone used to traveling long distances for extended periods of time on foot.  
He could get used to this new addition to the castle. If anything, he made for decent amiable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lewyn is here!  
> other than that, now Kiran is truly in-the-know of what's going on with his arrival,, the plot thickens hahah;;
> 
> idk why this chapter got squished together like that but oh well,,,
> 
> i hope you liked this chapter, and i'll see you in the next one!


	4. An Outing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Veronica drags Bruno and Kiran to the city, and Lewyn tags along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! my internet has risen from the dead after one week of total radio silence and i'm back to writing!

Bruno knew, deep down, he shouldn’t really be surprised to find the Great Hero in the foyer  _ before _ him the next morning. Not because he had expected him to, on the contrary – but because his only other point of reference was a single other morning and, as such, not enough data to draw any conclusions from on whether the Great Hero was an early bird or not.

Regardless, he found himself pausing upon entering the foyer and not finding it empty, like it usually was. He did, after all, pride himself on being both an early bird  _ and  _ a night owl.   
No, he didn’t have problems.

He didn’t bother announcing his arrival, certain the sound of his footsteps would do that for him.   
Not that the Great Hero would probably pay him any attention, right now.

“Hey, open up!” he exclaimed, hands banging on the wall that housed the hidden door to the inner corridors of the castle. Bruno had to admit, he was slightly surprised he’d remembered where it was. “I know there’s a door here, open up! Please!”

Oh, well, he sounded slightly agitated.

“Is something the matter?” the Prince asked, approaching from the side just in case the Great Hero hadn’t heard him enter the foyer. “That leads into a corridor, they won’t hear you unless they’re nearby.”

“Hey- This leads to the laundry room, right?” the Great Hero seemed to ignore his question, hurried. Bruno discovered that crease in his brows and exasperated look in his eyes didn’t suit him at all.

“In a sense, yes.”

“Open it,” the Great Hero half-demanded, half-pleaded. “I need to get there yesterday!”

Any amusement he might’ve had by that idiom was soured by the look of utter urgency in the man’s face.

He supposed there was no harm in showing the Great Hero how to access the hidden staff corridors of the castle, so he stepped in front of the space where the door was expertly blurred with the walls and went about opening it. The horizontal golden accent running at (his own) head level through all walls in the castle was, in the spaces where hidden doors were located, acting as the lock keeping them closed. In these small sections, the golden stripe was a thick key present both on this side of the wall, and on the other.

So, by sliding it to the right, the door’s spring-held hinges nudged the entrance open the slightest bit, enough for any adult man to slip their fingers through and pull it.

The Great Hero, looking closely at Bruno’s hands expertly opening the hidden passage, didn’t waste a breath in rushing in the moment the door had been swung open.

“Do you even know how to get to the laundry room?” Bruno called after him, the smallest hints of amusement fighting their way up to his voice. He didn’t let them.

Down the narrow candlelit stairway that was this end of the hidden passage, the man stopped in his tracks, hands holding on to his dr-  _ tunic _ , to keep himself from tripping on it.

He turned around to look over his shoulder and gave Bruno a sheepish, pleading look.   
Puppy eyes.

Perfectly executed puppy eyes. Innocent, ignorant in their own effect; much unlike Veronica’s which, while effective against anyone but himself, were manipulative and deliberate.

Bruno had the sinking sensation he was going to agree to anything under that look.

And so he stepped down the first set of stairs, closing the door behind him, resigning himself to a late breakfast.

At this hour of the day, the inner corridors were already bustling with energy. Veronica had often times accurately described them as “the veins of the castle”, for these were the hallways with the most flow of people at any given hour of the day, and the single longest interconnected walkway in the entire structure. It spanned all levels of the complex and branched off to reach all hallways and chambers save for a few deliberate rooms, mainly the bedchambers situated on the top floors of the towers and “Bruno’s personal library” (hence why he was so taken with it). It was a maze of twists and turns illuminated by either torches or carefully placed skylights letting in rays of sun to shine on the relatively narrow and simple corridors. The maids, butlers, stable hands, and other castle workers had all developed inner rules and codes and methods to maneuver their way around this blood vessel without causing issues. For example, when carrying a tray of food or anything with liquid in it, one had to constantly announce their presence. To enter the kitchen, one had to yell as a warning lest one of the cooks accidentally stab you with a steaknife.

As a member of the court, one would typically assume Bruno did not bother himself with such details of the working hands of the castle, but on the contrary. Seeing as these corridors where the least likely place  _ anyone _ would think of finding him, they were the perfect option for him to move around unannounced when the truly secret passages were out of reach or unavailable.

As such, he was plenty familiar with the layout of the inner corridors and the maneuvers to utilize when traversing them.

He instructed the Great Hero to follow after him and stick to his right, and they began their journey to the laundry room in one of the lower levels of the castle.

Prince Bruno noticed something was off within the first minute of walking.

He couldn’t hear the Great Hero’s footsteps.

He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder, finding the smaller man behind jolting to a halt in surprise. 

The Great Hero gave him a questioning look, ' _ why did you stop?'  _ written all over his face, and Bruno simply frowned in confusion. He hadn’t heard the clink-clank of metal he’d assigned to the man from the day prior. Not to mention, was he always this… small? Had he noticed he was now a full head taller than him? Had anyone?

“Are you… barefoot?” 

The Great Hero immediately averted his gaze and crossed his slender arms over his chest.   
Was he- Was he pouting?

“What, are you going to tell the maids?” the Great Hero… challenged? What? “I'm sorry, but I could barely feel my feet last night from walking in those horrible fashion disasters. Plus, I've done ballet so I'm used to-”

The last of the man's words died in his throat when Bruno stifled a laugh by coughing.

“Let's just get this over with,” the Prince grimaced, tuning back to his usual stoneface behavior.

He walked ahead, and a soft pitter-patter he could now pinpoint over the stillness of that branch of the corridor followed him down the stairs shortly after.

He wasn't so sure what to think of the fact the Great Hero had actually chosen to forgo footwear at all if it meant not using his assigned boots, but it wasn't his station to judge. It would be a slightly harder task to hear his steps in busy areas, but the sound was just as distinct so it would simply be a matter of getting used to it.

He tried to turn his thoughts away from the Great Hero when, not even minute after and when he had  _ just _ finished walking down the stairs, a small yelp came from behind and the man face-planted on his back. 

Bruno tried not to sigh.

“What are you doing, tripping around barefoot?” he drawled, slightly annoyed. Oh, he was getting hungry.

“I didn't-! I just wasn't looking and the stairs ended before I thought,” the Great Hero attempted to formulate a decent excuse. He sounded mortified as he recovered his bearings and safely made it to even grounds. “Why am I wearing a dress, anyway? I'm a man!”

“Alright, first of all, a man can wear whatever he wants,” Bruno did sigh aloud this time, resuming his walking. “Secondly, those clothes have nothing to do with you, we decided on them before I had even summoned you.”

“Oh,” the Great Hero let out, and it was so devoid of any semblance of emotion that the Prince spared a glance to gauge his reaction on his eyes. “R-Right. You're right, my bad,” his expression eased into one of… relief? It was gone as soon as it came, drowned out by confusion. Bruno faced forward again. “But why a dress? I don't particularly mind moving in it, but...”

“It's not a dress. It's actually a tunic commonly worn by the younger members of the council; not that we've had any in several years,” the Prince explained. “It's fashioned after Veronica's taste. It would usually be worn along with a wide overcoat, but for some reason the Princess vetoed that out of the outfit, so on its own it does resemble a dress somewhat.”

The Great Hero made a sound of interest, but didn't pursue the topic. Bruno decided not to dwell on his thoughts and continued guiding them along the corridor.

They encountered several maids and castle hands, in varying degrees of hurry, making their way through the walkway. They all bowed their heads lightly at the sight of the Prince, but otherwise continued on as normal. If the senators saw this, they would surely complain about how improper it was for the lowly workers of the castle to not stop and bow at the waist or curtsy, but Bruno couldn't care less. All these people were working hard already and he was the one "intruding" in their special corridor, so there was no need to bother them  _ or _ him with such useless formalities.

Eventually, and after making several twists and sharp turns and hearing both their stomachs growl at the sight of a tray of breakfast getting rushed out of the kitchen to what was no doubt one of the minister's chambers, they finally made it to the laundry room.

A maid exited with a fresh basket of bedsheets as they arrived, and another one was inside sorting through the garments.

The Great Hero all but rushed up to her, and Bruno recognized her as one of the two he'd appointed to care after the man's necessities.

“Rose, where are my clothes?!” the man inquired, all the hurry and urgency from earlier that morning returning to his voice.

“Why, is something the matter?” Rose hardly turned to him. “We should have them ready by tomorrow, if the weather favors us. I will bring them to your chambers, Great Hero, don't fret-”

“Oh, nononono- you washed them already?!” the Great Hero panicked.

That made the other two pay a little more attention to the matter at hand, the maid stopping her sorting and Bruno fully stepping into the room.

“I'm fairly certain we haven't yet, no,” the maid concluded after a moment of thinking about it. “They were covered in ashes, so we had to dust that off first.”

Stress and anxiety visibly left the Great Hero at those words.

“Ahh, great. That's great,” he sighed in relief. “Listen, don't bother washing them. I know yesterday I said you could use them as rags but it'd be best if we just hide them somewhere. Besides, smoke from tires and blood all stink, and I don't think the tear gas will come out easily.”

“Al...right…? But can't we just burn them, then?” the maid reasoned, confused, pointedly ignoring the latter half of what he'd said.

“No,” the Great Hero insisted. “Hide it. Forever. Never let that sucker see the light of day again.”

“… Can I ask why?” the maid tried, weirded out.

“That's-”

“I would also like to know the reasoning behind all this fuss,” Bruno cut in before the Great Hero could get an excuse out. The other two spun to face him approaching, arms crossed over his chest. “This hardly seems important enough to require such precaution. It's just clothes."

The Great Hero looked around for inspiration before seemingly resigning himself to telling the whole truth.

But his eyes appeared embarrassed, and Bruno couldn't pinpoint exactly why.

“The ashes and the tire smoke are toxic, as is the tear gas,” he explained. “Highly contaminating components. You don't want them anywhere near clean water, much less one used to wash clothes. God knows what it'll do to the grass and the ground below it if you toss it outside afterwards. And it's not something you can burn, either, since then all the contaminating agents will get spread out in the air and pollute it.”

There was silence for a moment as the maid attempted to wrap her head around that and Bruno tried not to come up with a million questions on the spot.

“And you were walking around with such toxic fabrics on your person?” was what eventually left his mouth, slightly dumbfound.

The Great Hero huffed. “You summoned me at a bad time, Prince.”

Somehow, the topic was dropped, and they left the laundry room after Bruno instructed the maid on where to store the garments. While he didn’t comment on anything else on the way back, the Prince made a mental list of all the questions he’d formulated and stored it to the side for when he could next interrogate the man trailing behind him.

By the time they returned to the foyer, Veronica was already seated at the table and halfway done with her glass of milk.

Breakfast was tense, and it almost tempted Bruno to try and smooth things over for the sake of future meals. Almost. It wasn’t problematic enough to bother with that, in the end, and he made no move to speak as Veronica overtly glared daggers at the Great Hero and he pretended not to notice.

“Oh! By the way,” Veronica mused at some point, nonchalant, prying her gaze from Kiran to focus on her scrambled eggs as if she hadn’t been staring at the man for the past half hour. Bruno would be damned if he didn’t notice the way the Great Hero’s shoulders relaxed imperceptibly, “seeing as you’ll be staying here in the capital from now on, I thought it would be productive to tour you around the city.”

There was silence for a beat as the Great Hero seemed to convince himself she wasn’t joking.

“You?” he questioned.

“Why yes, it wouldn’t do for the Empire’s princess to not properly welcome their Great Hero into their capital,” Veronica nodded, solemn. “My brother shall accompany us as well.”

“Ah,” Bruno let out, only now hearing of this plan. “Will I, now?”

“You ought to,” she spared him a glance, serious. Then, her tone lowered as if the Great Hero sitting right there with them wouldn’t hear her. “The senators won’t be back until the end of the week, are you going to let this opportunity slip us by?”

“I thought we had agreed the Great Hero stays in the castle,” Bruno frowned. With the mask on the way, though, it was highly likely the other man didn’t notice. Veronica did, however, because she knew him well enough.

“He will,” she nearly sighed, clearly annoyed with his reluctance to agree to her last-minute decisions. As usual. “But you can’t keep him cooped up in here like some precious sick princess waiting for her knight in shining armor to arrive and break the curse upon her.”

“Get to the point,” Bruno did sigh.

“We will keep a close eye on him, but if he never leaves the castle then that would defeat the entire point of having the townsfolk backing us up, as you said,” she hissed. “He needs to be able to interact with those he will be protecting. We can’t just have him end the war without nobody knowing who did it.”

“The three of us on an outing together is far too suspicious,” Bruno reminded her.

“Yes, I am aware; which is why this will be the only time I will be assisting,” she nodded. “Thank you for volunteering to accompany him in the following instances, by the by.”

Bruno had been about to complain to that, ready to say something along the lines of  _ ‘I’m the last one people should see him associating with’ _ , when the Great Hero stood up with an expression of wide eyes and uncomfortable stare.

“Well,  _ I _ should probably go get ready for this fun little trip, then,” he announced, clearly trying to exit the scene. Bruno wasn’t sure what was more amusing: the fact that he wasn’t trying to hide his discomfort, or the fact that said fact was entirely in line with everything they had been enacting up until now.

“My, good thinking, Great Hero!” Veronica appraised, just short of gasping for added flair. “While you’re at it, will you consider partaking in the act of wearing shoes? We  _ are _ going to be walking on dirty cobblestone walkways.”

“Shoes? You mean those torture devices with heels on them?” he turned halfway to frown at her. “Do you want me to be even taller than you, Your Imperial Highness?”

Bruno had been about to point out how Kiran wasn’t even that much taller than Veronica (who made sure to always wear heels), but she beat him to the speaking turn. “If you keep sinking low enough, I might not have to worry about that anymore.”

“There might not be anything left of me by the time I reach that level,” Kiran shook his head no, faking solemnity.

“Argh- Get out!” Veronica finally relented, jabbing a finger in the direction of the corridor leading to his secluded tower.

Not needing to be told twice, the Great Hero skipped out of the foyer, leaving behind a simmering Veronica.

“I shall go get ready,” she grumbled, standing up.

Bruno sighed in the wake of those two and resigned himself to informing the guards on their little trip.

It was unusual for Veronica to make rounds in the capital, Bruno being guilty of the same. As such, he wasn’t entirely surprised to see her shifting rather uncomfortable in place, her usual attire changed in favor of a much plainer one.

Relatively speaking, that is. At the very least, she had agreed to forgo the ornamental headpiece she would wear on outings. 

Bruno himself hadn’t found the need to change clothes, given how his day-to-day riding pants and riding boots with a plain white shirt were inconspicuous enough for the city if they didn’t particularly want to attract attention.

Veronica’s stare at his ever-present mask and gloves told him she disagreed on those, but he chose to ignore her.

The Great Hero, meanwhile, was positively beaming at his own attire. He had somehow managed to convince one of the pages to lend him common leather boots and work pants, and thus had gotten away with only wearing the half-tunic the maids had successfully forced on him.

Evidently, what made him happiest about the whole ordeal was getting to wear his preferred footwear again, Bruno presumed.

This was confirmed by the spring in his step as they made their way towards the carriage that would take them to the capital.

Lewyn was also accompanying them, much to Veronica’s confusion.

As expected, the ride to the city was spent in absolute silence.

Once at the gates of the capital, they left the carriage at the outpost and made their way in on foot.

As previously mentioned, Bruno was guilty of not making many trips to the city. Most of his business was centered around and within the castle, and when he did feel as though it would be fruitful to visit the small library (in comparison to the castle’s), he never took too long and always took the least travelled routes. The librarian was used to his presence, and so were a handful of the soldiers patrolling the city and perhaps some of the citizens themselves.

But nobody was used to Veronica visiting.

This became increasingly clear the closer to the plaza they got. The people would part to the sides and observe in silence, some bowing their heads and briskly stepping away while others hurried up to where they were headed. If Veronica noticed, she didn’t comment on it. Bruno supposed she saw this as more of a trip to show the Great Hero the layout of the city before returning back to the castle to resume her duties, rather than her interacting with the people.

They made a stop upon reaching the plaza, standing to the side under the shade of one of the trees. There was silence in the street for a moment before the citizens slowly resumed what they were doing prior to their arrival.

The Great Hero looked around, brows furrowed.

“Is it always like this?”

“We do not make it a habit to visit the capital in such a manner,” Bruno admitted.

“Obviously,” Lewyn hummed, looking around as well. “None of these people seem comfortable having you around.”

The Great Hero let out a long sigh, resting his forehead on the palm of his hand.

“What is it?” Veronica demanded.

“How can you not visit the people you protect as their Princess?” Kiran questioned, staring at Veronica. “No good ruler walks their streets to have their people part in discomfort and fear.”

“I cannot change how they perceive me,” Veronica attempted to argue.

“Yes? Yes you can,” Kiran seemed baffled, and Bruno paid special attention. “If you made an effort to actually interact with them instead of looking down at them from up your castle, maybe they would smile when they see you cross those gates.”

It was clear Veronica didn’t know how to respond to that, so she chose not to say anything. Kiran guessed the conversation to be over and directed his attention to the plaza once more.

While those two ignored each other, Bruno pretended not to notice Lewyn scurrying away to one of the vendors. He saw the Hero purchase a sweet bread, and couldn’t help but be slightly surprised by that. Did that meant his realm and Zenith shared a currency? Now that was certainly interesting. 

“Where are you going?” 

Veronica’s slightly annoyed voice brought him back to the matters at hand, only to find Kiran was no longer standing with them under the tree’s canopy.

Instead, the Great Hero was making his way over to a group of young girls braiding each other's’ hair by the fountain, pointedly ignoring Veronica’s question.

The Emblian siblings watched from afar how the girls turned to look at him approaching. Kiran said something they couldn’t quite catch, but whatever it was it certainly made the kids smile. The girl with dusty brown locks currently busy braiding her friend’s black untamed mane grinned up at him and responded with something else, to which the Great Hero clapped in surprise. Bruno wished for a second he could actually see what expression the man was making.

The small group by the fountain exchanged a couple more words, one of the girls giving him a dejected smile and lifting her friend’s incomplete braids as if to show him, only for the Great Hero to instinctively reach behind his head, his fingertips brushing his exposed nape as if searching for something that wasn’t there.

Then Kiran jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, directly at where Bruno and Veronica were standing, and the girls shot them a quick cursory glance before giving him a nervous look.

“Hmm…” the Hero’s voice next to him brought Bruno out of his reverie. “Interesting, is it not?”

“It certainly would be if I could hear them,” Veronica huffed, arms crossed over her chest, staring at the group by the fountain still.

“Ah, then allow me to translate,” Lewyn sounded amused, and Bruno filed the detail of the Hero having good hearing away for later. “Kiran is asking if they want to braid your hair, since it’s longer than any of the girl’s.”

“What?” Veronica managed out, at a loss for words.

“The girls are saying they might get in trouble because their mothers have told them you’re the one behind this war,” Lewyn continued, pausing to munch on his sweet bread. Veronica fell silent at that. “Ah.”

“What?” Bruno prodded, because he actually wanted to know what was happening over there.

“Kiran just said,” the Hero turned to face Veronica, “that you’ve brought him here to help you put an end to this war once and for all.”

Bruno blinked, and the statement seemed to catch Veronica off-guard as much as it did him.

“Oh, he just said you had a bad morning and that’s why you’re all frowny,” Lewyn laughed, a calmed and unassuming laugh.

“How dare-”

Whatever it was Veronica had been about to say, it was cut off by the distant voice of Kiran calling for them to approach.

With much reluctance, Veronica left the shadow of the tree and crossed the plaza over to the fountain, Bruno trailing after her, once more pretending not to notice how Lewyn took the chance to go see another vendor.

He stopped a little distance away from the fountain, under the shadow of another tree, and watched as his sister reached the girls and looked down at them. 

Kiran laughed something about getting a new hairdo and Veronica was somehow coaxed into sitting down and letting the girls marvel at her silver hair before getting started on braiding it.

While the Princess was trying not to die from a mixture of embarrassment and outrage silenced by the girl’s chipper chat and awe at her hair, Kiran left them to have fun and made his way over to where Bruno was standing.

He looked apologetic.

“I’m sorry.”

“About what?” the Masked Man quirked a brow, confused. If there was anyone he might need to apologise to, it would be to Veronica.

“I told them it was the Princess the one who brought me here to help when it was actually you,” Kiran explained, and Bruno had to blink once more. He hadn’t been expecting that. “But I figured it would be best if the people start seeing her as someone who’s trying to end the war, so…”

“No, it is alright,” Bruno managed to push his confusion aside. “Brilliant, in fact. Gossip spreads like lightning in this capital, and we do want to improve the people’s perception of Veronica.”

The Great Hero made what Bruno could only describe as a non-committal hum before turning his attention to the girls.

By the time Veronica was released from their grasp, Lewyn had re-joined them with more sweet bread and a small lute in hand. The Princess shifted on her feet as though she didn’t know what to do with herself, blushing despite her own mortification, while the girls proceeded to jump off the rim of the fountain and go play elsewhere.

Kiran waved an enthusiastic good-bye to them, to which they smiled in kind.

“You’re looking quite beautiful, Your Highness,” Lewyn mused, calmly tuning the strings of his newly acquired instrument.

“You are infuriating,” Veronica grumbled to the Hero, then sparing a look at Kiran, who returned his attention to the group after seeing the girls off. “I cannot believe you made me join a child’s game.”

“You  _ are _ a child, Princess,” Kiran pointed out, and Veronica fumed. “You deserve to have fun like one.”

Whatever she had been about to say came out in a sputtered mess of unintelligible words, before she crossed her arms over her chest and faced away from them in a tantrum.

Giving up on the ‘show the Great Hero the capital’ plan, Veronica called the outing off and stomped her way back to the carriage, Bruno and the other two following suit.

Kiran pretended Veronica wasn’t angry at him and instead spent the entire way back interrogating a willing Lewyn on his musical prowess, a conversation Bruno checked out of two minutes in.

The carriage ride back to the castle was just as… spiritually taxing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you can't tell, i love writing banter.
> 
> look i know there's no way Zenith and Jugdral would have the same currency but just bear with me on that one bc i haven't decided yet on whether Lewyn and Kiran even get paid for them to go around buying stuff, and Lewyn needs an instrument asap so,,,,
> 
> Lewyn: Highness, come here buy me a lute!  
> Veronica: Go die.  
> Alternatively, Bruno: Who am I, your mother?
> 
> Kiran, in panic: dresses are cool and all and dancing in them is the greatest thing ever but if this is going to make people look weird at me bc i'm a man then why-  
> Bruno: literally nobody gives a shit what you wear here  
> Kiran, an entire life of trauma lifting from his shoulders: ...................oh........
> 
> anyway yeah sorry it took a bit but i hope you enjoyed this chapter!   
> thank you for reading <3


	5. The Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruno thinks to try and stop thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh this chapter is a long mess hahaha prepare

Veronica was Bruno’s pride and joy.

It was a strange thought, even more so considering they were step-siblings and Veronica was, in all honesty, not the most likeable person ever. But it was an indisputable fact, and one that crept up on him once in a while when he least expected it to.

And, well, with reason.

They were around ten years apart. Bruno had practically raised the Princess, when the little thing was presented to him in the Emperor’s arms one afternoon. When he first saw her, he remembered clearly having been overcome with an odd need to protect her. In a castle like Hervör’s, an innocent, untainted child was a treasure most precious.

Had it been left to him alone, he was certain Veronica would’ve turned out different.  _ Very _ different, for better or worse. But it hadn’t been. Veronica had had a wide array of people contributing to her raising as she grew up. There were her various and often replaced teachers, who taught her most of the academic basics Embla’s Princess and future Empress needed to know. They were the ones that taught her to read and write, yes, but it was Bruno who practiced with her. It was Bruno who red her bedtime stories when her sick – and soon after, dead – mother couldn’t. It was Bruno who sat with her reading magic theory when she practiced character after character as she learned to write. The teachers taught her maths, but Bruno was the one who had to suffer through the ordeal of teaching her to count up to a hundred. Some of her teachers didn’t make it through to the end. Her etiquette teacher, for example, was replaced about thirty-seven times over the course of six years, after which the staff gave up altogether and decided they had done all they could. As such, it was Bruno who actually got the lessons through to her. He was the one who taught her to sit properly. He taught her to dance. He taught her how to properly handle herself around the rest of the court, and later other underhanded tricks on how to deftly maneuver around people’s intentions. Her teachers taught her magic on a principle level, but it was Bruno who had to put her through the grueling realizations that came with actually utilizing magic for battle. It was Bruno who, with the help of some maids, managed to procure her someone patient enough to teach her how to use healing magic after her insisting for months in a very roundabout way of saying she cared for him and wanted to protect him.    
He was the one to teach her how to ride a horse after she saw him do it. He taught her to ride a wyvern, too, because it was beneficial for the both of them.

Once upon a time, Veronica used to have personal maids. But she’s a spoiled brat with a lot of power and a terrible attitude, so no maids lasted long under her care and she eventually decided to simply not have any, just like Bruno didn’t, either. That, of course, resulted in Bruno being left to help her learn to comb her hair and dress on her own, as well as put what armor she might one day need on.

Back when the Emperor was still alive, he liked to sit her on his knee and look out the window of the private foyer. He would tell her about the world outside the castle, about the Empire; but most of all, he would tell her about the war. He’d tell her about the battles he fought, about how he was valiantly fighting the Kingdom to unite the continent under the Emblian banner. How, once they won the war, the Empire would flourish with the Kingdom’s rich soil. How she would grow up to inherit the throne and lead the Empire to greatness, whether by managing Kingdom lands under their rule or seeing that the war was won if he didn’t make it.

With the Emperor gone, Bruno was the only thing standing between Veronica and the senate, and he made sure to exploit his position.

Even after all these years, he was the only one Veronica actually listened to.

So yes, Veronica was, in a very odd way, Bruno’s greatest treasure. Castle Hervör was a very dangerous place for the both of them, and if Bruno wanted them both to succeed in there he had no option but to plan out his every move. He’d been doing so ever since his mother was imprisoned and promptly left to starve. In the chessboard of their game in this court, Veronica was the indisputable King. No matter the cost, she was to be kept safe. Everything was to and for her. She was the one player Bruno was simply incapable of sacrificing. Even if it meant risking his own survival, he would do it gladly if it meant Veronica would keep going. This game would simply not end until the king piece fell. He wouldn’t let it.

And Bruno was a good chess player.

He had taken her from a disastrous spoiled brat into an arguably less bratty young teenager, and they still had a long way to go if he had any say in it (and he did).

It was because of it all that he still couldn’t, for whatever reason, shake the Great Hero’s words in the plaza earlier that morning.

_ “You are a child, Princess. You deserve to have fun like one.” _

Bruno had raised Veronica.

But had he done a good job at it?

Had he raised Veronica, the fifteen year-old young teenager? Or had he raised Her Imperial Highness Princess Veronica Kamilla Hervör of the Unified Emblian Empire?

They were one and the same. And yet, the Great Hero’s words implied he might’ve been neglecting one of them.

Bruno shook his head.

Perhaps it was too late, now. Veronica would be turning sixteen soon. There was nothing he could do now that would change anything.

_ “You deserve to have fun like one.” _

Bruno shook his head again.

He needed fresh air.

It was with that thought in mind that he left the library and headed for the eastern landing balcony. Seeing as that was the one of the two balconies that faced the ocean instead of the rest of the land, it was actually unused when it came to its original purpose: being the wyvern rider’s landing bay. All of the senators who rode the beasts prefered to utilize the southwestern balcony; a disgrace, considering it was the nearest location-wise to his own chambers. Although, considering the layout of the hallways and bridges, Bruno was closer in walking distance to the unused one.

He sometimes wondered who even designed this monstrosity of a castle.

It wouldn’t be a couple of hours until Veronica dragged him back into the foyer for tea, so he had time to stare into the nothingness of the sea until his thoughts left him with the wind.

The voices coming from the corridor that led to the balcony had other plans for him, apparently.

“...sometimes, merely for the sake of playing.”

That was the Hero’s voice. Lewyn? Lewyn. Who was he speaking to--?

“That’s so cool!” Ah. The Great Hero. Of course. “Can you sing, too, or just play?”

Bruno emerged into the spacious balcony (with how big it was, it didn’t really resemble a balcony) and was already not looking forward to dealing with people whatsoever.

“Well, I wouldn’t shatter glass, if it worries you,” the Hero snickered, which got a short laugh out of the Great Hero.

The Hero was seated atop one of the few crates gathered to the walls of the castle, the lute he’d acquired earlier that day at the plaza cradled between both arms. The Great Hero, back in his enforced attire, was balancing himself back and forth on the balls of his feet (barefoot again, going by the lack of noise), standing in front of the Hero.

Neither paid him any mind if they even noticed his arrival, which Bruno was grateful for.

“Would you mind singing something?” the Great Hero asked, excited but soft. “It doesn’t have to be very long. I just haven’t heard music in a while and I’m missing it more than I probably should,” a self-pity chuckle.

“Why, Great Hero, you needn’t even ask,” came the half-teasing amused reply of the Hero, a smile evident in his voice.

Bruno pretended to be busy as he walked to the railings of the balcony, away from the other two. Yet their voices and the soft tunes of the lute carried over to him regardless, so he had no choice but to listen to the Hero find his notes with humming. He himself hadn’t heard music in a while, outside of the bits and pieces of sea shanties he caught that the cooks sometimes sang, so it was a welcomed distraction from his own thoughts.

The Hero had a nice singing voice, as it turned out. It wasn’t what you’d hear from performers and their expertly-tuned vocal chords, but, as he’d said, he wouldn’t be shattering glass any time soon. If he had to be honest, he wasn’t paying that much attention to what was actually being spoken. Something about the dark being banished by twelve heroes or what have you.

Bruno didn’t even notice the music ending, but clapping (presumably from the Great Hero) did kick him out of his reverie.

“That was so nice!” the Great Hero praised, earnest. “That was from your homeland, I take it?”

“Just a good old traveler’s tale,” the Hero mused, a wink audible in his voice. Bruno filed that information away for later.

The conversation derailed into the Great Hero outright asking if the man travelled around a lot, and Bruno took note of his positive answer before checking out entirely.

Except he couldn’t, because for some reason he was incapable of ignoring the Great Hero’s voice this time around. He listened to him go on about this instrument supposedly similar to the lute that the Hero didn’t seem to recognize, much to the other man’s dismay. Bruno filed all the in-depth details the Great Hero went on about this ‘gitarr’ (gitahr? guitar? whatever) away for later. How the strings were tuned, what they were made of, the shape of the thing, the size, the tuning picks, all of that. Bruno was not up to deciphering half of that, so he simply took note of the facts and left them at that.

“Can’t say I’ve seen it, sorry,” was the Hero’s reaffirmation to not knowing what the other was talking about.

The Great Hero sighed. “I guess they don’t exist yet.”

Bruno had been expecting the conversation to either die at that or derail into something else, when,

“Does it sound familiar to you, Highness?”

He tried not to be surprised at his sudden and unceremonious inclusion to the conversation, and turned around to lean back on the railings and look at the other two over by the crates.

“It doesn’t, no,” was all he said.

The Great Hero made a defeated face and turned back to the Hero.

Bruno wondered if that was all that was required of him for the discussion. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised the Great Hero would have a different way of interacting with people, given how wildly different his realm seemed to be from this one.

He found he didn’t entirely mind this distinctly direct approach to things.

“I didn’t take you for a musician,” the Hero mused, intrigued.

The Great Hero huffed, but it was amiable. “I am a man of many talents, Lewyn.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Hey, I need to keep the mystery up, don’t I?” the Great Hero laughed, entertained, sobering up shortly after. “But yes, I can play some string instruments. Including these,” he tapped his throat.

The Hero blinked before breaking out in laughter, and Bruno failed to see where the joke was. His throat? String instruments? The throat housed the vocal-

The vocal chords.

Oh, that was dumb.

By the time Bruno came down from his disappointment, the Hero had given the Great Hero the lute, and he could hear some notes being played to find the right one.

Then, a little tune followed. It was simple, probably a practicing tune, but it had a melodic sequence Bruno had never heard before.

And he’d been playing the harp since the court deemed his hands deft enough for it (not that he minded, it was a lovely instrument).

Soft clapping by the Hero returned him to the present.

The Great Hero laughed, nervous. “That was just practice, c’mon.”

“Well, then,” the Hero shifted on his seat, getting comfortable. “I sang. Make it fair, Kiran, sing us a tune.”

The Great Hero moved in place, probably doing little anxious jumps. Bruno couldn’t really tell with the tunic brushing the floor. “I don’t know what to sing.”

“Surely you know  _ some _ songs.”

“I do!” the Great Hero was quick to correct. “I do, I know lots. I just,” more little jumps. “I can’t decide.”

The Hero made a show of thinking about it, letting a hum trail on as he looked to the side. “How about a love song? Those are easy, right?”

“That’s like almost all the songs, tho.”

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do, then,” the Hero crossed his arms over his chest, mock-annoyance in his tone.

The Great Hero let out a whine. “Give me a word, I can think of one from that.”

The mock-annoyed expression on the Hero vanished to give way to a neutral one, meaning he was probably thinking about it once more. “How about… uh, let’s see, walk?”

Bruno had been about to chime in with how unhelpful that word was for choosing a song, but,

“Oh, that’s actually perfect!” the Great Hero beat him to the speaking turn, and even the Hero was surprised. “Okay. Okay, I know one, give me a sec.”

With that, the Great Hero began trying out the strings in search for the ones he needed.

“Okay, this is going to sound weird in lute, but,” the Great Hero looked up at the Hero. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Bruno watched as the Great Hero looked at him over his shoulder, as if debating whether to ask him to leave or let him stay. Bruno made a gesture with one hand indicating him to proceed, and the man seemed to swallow past his nerves before returning his attention to the lute.

The beginning of the song seemed comprised of only a handful of notes, spread out in the classic four-by-four. What surprised him was hearing the Great Hero’s voice hardly eight beats into the melody.

“When I wake up,” he began, a smile in his voice. “Yeah I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you.”

Both Bruno and the Hero quirked brows at that. Clearly, this song was unlike any either of them had ever heard.

“When I go out,” the Great Hero continued on regardless. “Yeah I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you.”

The Great Hero began to pace to the sides along the rhythm, lute held loosely in his hands as his eyes seemed to close and he just wandered the balcony. Bruno noticed the Hero tapping his foot on the crate along the rhythm, and he managed to tune back into the song two verses later, when the notes in the instrument picked up.

“But I~I would walk five-hundred miles! And I~I would walk five-hundred more!” he sang, now bouncing on his steps. “Just to be that man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door!”

Bruno was left re-considering anything he knew about music in silence as the Great Hero went on to sing what was probably another verse right after that sudden and relatively brief change in the melody. Was that the chorus? He could  _ understand _ the lyrics, but… there was no story? And it didn’t sound like a shanty, either. It sounded just like a man serenading the person he loved, except it didn’t sound like a serenade at all.

As the Great Hero skipped around the balcony, clearly enjoying himself, Bruno noticed the Hero mouthing the lyrics once the chorus returned.

By the third time the chorus came around, after an amusing display of jump-spinning by the Great Hero as he simply ‘la-la-la’ed along the music (he wondered if that was an actual part of the song), the Hero outright joined the other man in singing.

“But I~I would walk five-hundred miles! And I~I would walk five-hundred more!” they both sang, the Great Hero delighted as he bounced around and the Hero swayed in his seat and bobbed his head along the music. “Just to be that man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door!”

Bruno made his way out of the balcony around the time the song finished, before either of those two could ask him what he thought of it or expect him to react to it. Either outcome would’ve probably been terrible considering his inability to express emotions through his face willingly, so he opted out of it.

Every single detail about the composition of the song and the Great Hero’s enthusiasm during it was filed away for later, however.

Having found no respite from his own thoughts, he resigned himself to returning to the library.

It was a couple of minutes before Veronica’s tea time that he noticed the ministers’ servants were running around the castle (they didn’t know how to access the inner corridors).

At nearly five in the afternoon.

Meaning something was happening.

The ministers of Hervör, while they did reside in the castle almost permanently, spent most of their time out seeing to their respective duties. They had breakfast and dinner in the castle, but for some hours between one in the afternoon and six in the evening most of them tended to leave the premises.

Along with their servants. And even if the servants didn’t accompany them, which was the case for some, they still kept to their quarters instead of moving around the castle.

As if on cue, Bruno was making is way down to the second level of the castle when a minister intercepted him.

“Ah, Highness, there you are.”

Bruno stopped in his tracks and turned to face the man, recognizing him as the vice-minister of internal security.

Who was currently blocking his path forward.

“Did something happen?” Bruno cut to the chase, replying a beat later than usual. That was great for confusing the ministers.

“Ah- Yes,” the man blinked, straightening up. “We were informed Her Highness went out on a visit to the capital.”

“That is a correct statement, yes.”

“Highness,” the man’s brows furrowed. “None of us were informed of this. Anything could’ve happened.”

“I was there, and it was her decision,” Bruno stated, final. “Or do you doubt my abilities to defend her?”

He let static rise in the air for a moment, long enough for the man to catch onto it but not enough to let him comment on it. Bruno heard steps approaching them. That had to be the actual minister of internal security. How bothersome.

“Never. I was merely-”

“Excuse me.”

Another voice entered the scene, and they turned to find the very same man Bruno had heard approach. The vice-minister seemed to square his shoulders even more, apparently feeling safer now that the minister was there to back him up. Bruno tried not to roll his eyes.

“So, you’ve been informed,” the minister turned to him, monotone.

“It would seem that way, yes.”

“Please understand, Highess, this is no longer merely about Her Highness,” the minister drawled. “We’ve been informed the Great Hero went along with Her.”

“Correct.”

That seemed to tick the man off the wrong way. “Are you unaware of the dangers outside the castle, or are you simply choosing to ignore them?”

Bruno decided not to think about how the castle was far more dangerous. “I am aware. However, as you must’ve heard, it was her decision to go out and bring both the Great Hero and myself along. The Hero accompanied us as well,” a short pause. “Or do you, too, doubt my abilities to protect the both of them with the Hero’s aid?”

“Your abilities are not at doubt here,” the minister nearly huffed. “It is your understanding of the importance of Her Highness and, now, the Great Hero what we question.”

“Then I am forced to question  _ your _ understanding of both their roles,” Bruno countered.

The ministers were quiet for a second before the vice-minister managed to get something out. “Elaborate.”

“Do you plan to confine Her Highness and the Great Hero to the castle when their role is to tend for the safety of the Empire?” Bruno asked, letting his tone drop down to threatening. “What are we to do if the people become afraid of them?”

“What are you implying?” the minister demanded.

“What we confirmed today in the morning,” he continued. “If you wish for Her Highness to lead the Empire with the aid of the Great Hero, you must let her go out and see to her people. Interact with them. She needs their support, too,” another brief pause. “Or are they not the blood of the Empire?”

That shut them up for a longer time now.

“Understood,” the minister got out through gritted teeth. “However, please consider informing us of these…  _ outings _ beforehand--”

“That will depend entirely on Her Highness’ wishes,” Bruno cut in, final.

Both men fumed at him before turning tail and walking away.

As soon as they were out of sight, he ducked into one of the secret passageways and took a deep breath.

It was five in the evening now, Veronica would eat him alive if he wasn’t in the foyer within the next minute.

No words were spoken during the tea time, as it usually was. Absolute silence, interrupted only by the faintest clicking of teacups against saucers.

However, Bruno had the melody of the Great Hero’s song stuck on his head for the entire duration of the lunch.

Considering the speed at which Veronica finished her tea, it was safe to assume she was distracted. Terribly so. 

Bruno wondered if she also…

_ “You deserve to have fun--” _

He shook the thought away.

Veronica would say something, if she was troubled. She would come to him, of that he had no doubt. It was just a matter of letting her make the decision.

Either way, knowing her, she would’ve made up her mind by dinner. She never was one for doubting her situation for too long, after all.

Bruno holed himself up in the library after tea time as he awaited dinner.

His thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone.

As a means to distract himself, he sketched out the details of the Great Hero’s mystery instrument. What he lacked in artistic skills he made up for with an excellent memory.

Looking at his drawing, he could see why the Great Hero had supposed they’d know of it. It was basically a bigger lute, with a different shape to the body and a different amount of strings.

He wrote down a rough spelling of the name and stashed it between his notebooks.

He spent the next hours going through his notes. Books stacked upon books that he would most likely take back to his own chambers eventually.

The curse.

One would think, for something that had been supposedly running in the royal line’s blood for generations now, that there would be more research recorded on the subject. Anything. Anything outside of baseless speculation on what it did and what it was.

Bruno didn’t know what he was going to do with himself if it wasn’t a curse. He wasn’t worried for himself, no, the thing could take him for all he cared – what worried him was it getting to Veronica if he fell.

It was the only reason he couldn’t afford to die just yet.

If he left, the entire weight of the curse would fall upon Veronica. Chaos would ensue. The war would become an even bloodier mess. Veronica would probably be sent to the front lines the moment word got out. That was exactly the same thing that had happened with all the previous Emperors and Empresses, and the reason why all Emblian rulers tended to meet a tragic end be it in or out of the battlefield.

That would not happen to Veronica.

He wouldn’t let it.

If it came down to locking himself away for the curse to eat him from the inside  _ just _ to delay it getting to her, then so be it.

Soon.   
Soon the book containing the list of all tomes within the Empire’s half of Gunnlöð would be brought to him. Then he could verify whether the archives of old really had any say in the matter.

If not, then…

If not…

…

What time was it, seven? Seven and a half.

Dinner, he needed dinner.

Much to his surprise, Veronica was already seated on one of the windowsills of the foyer by the time he arrived. She shot him a short glance of acknowledgement of his arrival and returned her attention to the outside.

Meaning she had sorted her own situation out. Well, that was a relief.

He looked around the foyer.

The Great Hero was nowhere to be found.

They sat in silence for twenty more minutes, and the man did not make an appearance.

Veronica let out an impatient huff and got up from her spot, making a beeline for the entrance to the inner corridors, probably to tell the cooks to get the food out regardless.

She was fiddling with the lock when they heard stepps –hurried steps– coming from the corridor leading to the southwestern towers.

Headed for the foyer?  _ Running? _ That could only be--

The Hero entered the foyer in a rush, stopping dead in his tracks to scan the chamber and furrowing his brows upon, presumably, not finding what he was looking for.

“Did anything happen?” Veronica questioned, half-baffled half-annoyed.

The Hero swallowed, as if reaching for the words. “Where is Kiran?”

“Did something happen,” Bruno demanded, standing up, far more a statement than a question.

“I… I don’t know,” the Hero shook his head no, looking at them. It was evident he wanted to move, and quick, but it was also clear he was extremely confused. “I was simply- I felt as though something called to me. Desperate. I don’t know what it is, but it reminded me of when I was pulled from my realm and into this one.”

Veronica opened her mouth to question that, but Bruno cut in before her. “The divine Breidablik,” he realized, turning to her. “Legend says it answers to the Great Hero only. It being a relic, it wouldn’t stretch the imagination much to assume it is bound to him.”

It took Veronica a moment to comprehend that. “The same way Élivágar is to me,” she concluded, now serious. Bruno nodded. “This must mean Breidablik is sending a distress signal in the Great Hero’s stead,” she looked at the Hero, “and only you are getting it, for being somewhat bound to it as well.”

“Yes? I don’t know,” the Hero shifted in his spot. “I only know we need to find him, it’s not stopping.”

“Search indoors with him, northern half,” he commanded, receiving a sharp nod form Veronica. He made his way to the entrance she’d been standing by. “I’ll search the southern half, innards.”

“Reconvene here in twenty,” Veronica called, taking hold of the Hero’s wrist and dragging him along with her before the man managed to snap out of his confusion and follow of his own will.

Bruno knew to follow a hunch when he had one, and so he took the inner corridors straight to the section of the castle that housed the servants’ quarters.

The ministers returning early and cornering him (two of them at once!) couldn’t be a coincidence.

As expected, the servants were having dinner in their own mess hall. All heads turned to him when he swung the doors open, and he was fairly certain he saw some choke on their soup from the impression.

“At what time did you last see the Great Hero?” he asked, voice reaching the entire mess hall. Heads turned as all servants exchanged hours before a group lit up with soft realization.

“Five minutes ago, before coming here,” one of the maids stood up from her seat, and Bruno had to admit they were all very organized. They weren’t the ministers’ servants for nothing, he supposed.

“Where and how.”

“I was making my way here and found him wandering the halls, Your Highness, he looked lost,” the same maid answered. “He asked me the directions to the ‘small foyer’, but my Master arrived before I could give him any and I was dismissed.”

“And you suppose your master gave him the directions,” he said, and the maid nodded. He kept his expression blank as he nodded as well, turning to leave. “Good. As you were.”

The sound of chairs moving and soft conversation resuming carefully followed him out of the mess hall as he ducked back into the inner corridors.

That maid worked for the minister of external security. If the minister had given the Great Hero directions to the private foyer and instead they had received a distress signal in the form of the Hero, then there was only one possible solution:

The Great Hero had been sent to one of the false corridors. A specific false corridor, which had been probably set up with…  _ something _ while Bruno was being cornered by those two ministers.

He tried not to groan as he sped up a set of stairs. The worst thing about this all was the lack of any concrete evidence for anything. Not to mention, the fact most ministers had returned early didn’t exactly mean they were all involved with this.  _ And _ the fact the minister of external security was the one that gave the Great Hero directions also didn’t mean he was the only one involved.

Bruno wished, not for the first time, to have the same structure of government as Askr or Nifl, if the latter hadn’t changed it all this time. But he knew the nature of the Empire as a unified set of relatively self-governing provinces made it impossible.

Curse the ministers.

Curse the senators.

Why couldn’t he have been born a farmer.

After narrowing down the options of the false hallways that could’ve been set up going by the route the ministers knows he takes through the castle, Bruno left the inner corridors through a side passage and exited into the end of the unlit false hallway of the third floor, northern half.

The first thing he noticed was the smell.

Blood. Fresh blood.

The second thing he noticed, upon taking  _ two steps _ towards the faraway light of the other end of the corridor, were the steel things his boots knocked over.

Caltrops.

_ This is why we wear metal boots, _ his mind unhelpfully supplied, angry, as he quickened his pace to the entrance of the corridor.

He heard before he saw the sharp intake of air from the person curled against the wall of the hallway, rather intelligently still within the shadows of the corridor.

“It’s me,” Bruno hurried to say, rushing to kneel by the Great Hero’s side. The man hadn’t made it past one step into the trap, which was good. “It’s just me. Veronica and the Hero are on their way.”

He could scarcely see in the absence of lanterns, but he could  _ hear _ . He heard the choked sob and the sniffle that followed his reassurance, the rustle of clothes as the Great Hero shifted in his spot. He felt the hand that almost slapped him in blind search for him, and the trembling fingers that found purchase on his sleeve and held there with a tight grip, but nothing else.

“Is this why you wear metal boots?” the Great Hero’s voice almost startled him, purely because it was the last thing he’d expected. He sounded tiny,  _ afraid _ . Bruno wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know why he grew even angrier at that.

He blinked, only then registering the words. “What…?”

“Is it always like this?” the Great Hero continued, a tremble in his tone. Bruno didn’t quite know what to say to that. “Are you two always targeted?”

Why was he asking about them? “...Occasionally, yes.”

“That’s horrible!” the man whisper-yelled, the hand holding on to his sleeve outright shaking now. “This- This is your home! How can they-? H-How can they…?”

The choked sob that cut him off made Bruno lean forward just in time to catch the Great Hero’s head with his shoulder, the hand holding to his sleeve gripping it for dear life as the other found similar purchase on his other arm.

Bruno held him by the elbows, unsure what to do with the man sobbing in front of him.

Bruno didn’t understand. Why was he asking about  _ them?! _

He’d been put through a caltrops trap – barefoot! – and the only thing he could cry about was Veronica and him?!

He didn’t understand. 

He didn’t understand why he felt as though his blood was boiling. This wasn’t the curse acting up, this was something else entirely.

He didn’t understand why his chest constricted so.

He only knew he wanted the Great Hero to stop.

Stop crying.

Stop asking about them.

Stop bleeding.

Stop hurting.

Veronica knew healing magic. Veronica would heal his injuries. 

The Hero got along with him. The Hero would calm him down, talk to him, cheer him up.

All Bruno could do was kneel there, hold him, and wait in boiling rage for the other two to arrive.

Or go murder the ministers who did this.

Whichever came first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's why you wear metal boots, Kiran, everything has a reason and an explanaiton in Embla castle.
> 
> so yeah this chapter was a disaster in tone, but i didn't know how to separate it without cluttering the previous or the next one,,  
> so here!
> 
> in case anyone didn't recognize the song in this chapter, it was "I'm gonna be" by The Proclaimers  
> oh yeah Kiran is a man of many talents AND a theatre kid so you're going to hear him sing a lot in this fic,,,  
> i hope i kept it nice and brief!
> 
> anyway yeah i'll see you next chapter <3


	6. The First Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Great Hero makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea why i got writer's block all of a sudden, i swear, half of this chapter was done like two weeks ago i just couldnt'. get. the rest. done!!!!!!!!  
> i don't know;;;
> 
> also this chapter is short in comparison to the others, but i'm attempting something called actually keeping the chapter consistent in tone and themes so,,  
> yeah i'll just see how it plays out  
> enjoy~

“Sit still, I cannot heal you if I don’t remove these caltrops, and I won’t take them out if you keep moving!”

Veronica’s annoyed chide echoed in the silence that followed as the Great Hero held on to a pillow that Bruno absentmindedly wished would _not_ succumb to the man’s strenght and rip apart.

Upon Veronica and the Hero’s arrival at the scene, they had managed to carry the injured Great Hero to his personal chambers, where Veronica was now attempting to remove the three caltrops he’d stepped on with his left foot.

The Great Hero’s muffled scream into the pillow was the only indicator that Veronica had managed to get all the offending metal pieces out, considering she herself remained dead silent, focused on her work.

Bruno looked out the window to the bridges connecting the towers, on the lookout for anyone approaching and keeping track of the servant’s movements through the lower levels he could see.

“Clean caltrops,” Veronica informed, Bruno turning to face the chambers, moving away from the window so that his back wasn’t directly to it. The Hero was busy washing the blood away while Veronica observed the metallic pieces sat on a basin to the side. “Sharpened, small. There’s no lingering magic. The tips are straight and unbarbed.”

“A warning, then,” Bruno hummed. The Great Hero lifted his face from where it was burrowed in the pillow, looking up at him. Bruno avoided the gaze. “Perhaps the exact same warning they once sent you.”

“Tailored for an adult, yes, the ones I stepped on were smaller,” she corrected, turning one caltrop in her hand. Bruno compared the size to her fingers and figured yes, hers had been far smaller.

The Hero rose from his spot, dropping the bloodied rag into the water bucket. “You mentioned a warning?”

“The most straightforward one I’ve seen so far,” Bruno nodded. “ _‘Don’t overstep.’_ ”

There was a brief silence as Veronica set her staff forward and focused on healing the Great Hero’s injuries.

“...Did I do something?” the Great Hero asked, and while he still sounded small with his voice hoarse from screaming into the pillow, there was a calmness there that probably came from the healing spell on his wounds.

“Not particularly, no,” Bruno shook his head no. “This was a preemptive warning.”

“‘Don’t overstep’, overstep what?” the Great Hero questioned, baffled.

“Whatever they consider your place to be,” Veronica hummed. “The court adores the idea of puppeteering those above them. You were brought here as a tool for the war, thus, to them, anything not directly related to that use falls outside of what your ‘intended duties’ are.”

The Great Hero stared in silence at the blood, apparently shaken.

Bruno forced his gaze away from the man and to the caltrops on the basin. Just as Veronica had said, they were the simplest out there. If anything, they were smaller than the standard.

They were lucky, then, that this was just a warning.

“Are they- Are they allowed to do this stuff?” the Great Hero questioned.

“No.”

“But- Then why do they keep doing this?” the Great Hero insisted. “Clearly it’s not the first time this has happened.”

“Nor will it be the last,” Veronica mused, finishing with the spell. The Great Hero turned to give her a baffled look, but she ignored it. “Done. Try it out, there should be no pain.”

The Great Hero bit back whatever retort he could’ve had and looked down at his outstretched foot. He twisted it to the sides before setting it down, standing up, wary. 

Bruno watched as the man rose in height for a second, probably standing on his tiptoes, before returning to normal.

“Incredible,” the Great Hero mumbled, and it was half-surprise half-sadness what Bruno caught in his voice. The man turned to face Veronica. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Veronica huffed, the slightest bit tired from the spell. It _had_ been a while since she’d used healing magic, Bruno supposed.

The Great Hero jumped in his spot, looking down. Bruno wondered once more if perhaps there was no magic in his realm.

He immediately abandoned that line of thought the second his mind thought of asking how medical procedures and injury healing even worked without healing staves.

“I don’t understand,” the Great Hero mumbled, ceasing his jumps. “I don’t understand- Why is this so common for you two?” 

Veronica turned to him, unsure how to answer that, and Bruno simply shrugged in a ‘don’t look at me’.

“If it’s happened before, then of course they would get used to it,” the Hero reasoned.

“My question is _why_ it’s happened more than once,” the Great Hero frowned, restless. He sounded worried, and Bruno wasn’t certain he wanted to know why. “How can someone attempt something as serious as direct body harm to someone within a _castle_ and get away with it?”

“If you were to point fingers at the ones responsible, who would you blame?” Bruno asked.

The Great Hero turned to him, and there was silence for a second. Something churned inside him at the sight of red, tear-swollen eyes with such a hardened look on them.

“The guy who gave me directions to the corridor,” the Great Hero said, but he sounded unsure.

“The minister of external security? But he did not plant the caltrops, for he was speaking with you during the time that was being done,” Bruno shook his head no.

The Great Hero blinked. “But- But that was on purpose, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, of course it was. He gave you directions to the trap, there is no doubt in that.”

“Then wh-”

“However, that proves nothing,” Bruno cut in before the Great Hero could ask his full question. “He merely gave you directions. He did not stab you with caltrops, and he certainly did not place them there.”

“But you said yourself that it was on purpose!” the Great Hero insisted, distraught.

“My word matters little against the lack of evidence,” Bruno shook his head no again. “We might all agree he purposefully gave you directions to a false corridor so that you may go step on some caltrops, but the fact of the matter is that we do not have concrete evidence to prove he was consciously sending you to a trap.”

“He gave me directions there!”

“What my brother is trying to say,” Veronica chimed in, the slightest bit irritated. Bruno tried not to sigh. “is that if you were to go accuse him of sending you to a trap, he would say he had no knowledge of said corridor being trapped,” a pause, and the Great Hero blinked. “And there would be nothing we could say to that.”

The Great Hero stared at her, with eyes wide and brows furrowed in desperation.

“You’re joking,” he mumbled. “So you’ve been- All this time, you’ve-” he swallowed, pausing to gather his thoughts instead of blabbering half-sentences. He looked down, and there was a defeated look on his face. “Well, no shit – of course you’d take to wearing steel boots in this hellhole.”

Ah, he was talking about them again.

Bruno smoldered his anger, crossing his arms over his chest.

“There are no allies in this castle, Great Hero,” he stated, final. “I believed I made that clear when I explained the situation to you.”

The Great Hero blinked. “No allies?”

“Everyone in this court is far too self-absorbed to see past their villas and to their people, ” Veronica scoffed. “My brother and I can only rely on each other, and now you are part of the game as well. Tread carefully.”

The Great Hero looked at her with a contemplative gaze, and Bruno tried to see past it. There was something else in his eyes, was that…? Confusion? Pity?

The man’s lips pursed into a thin line to keep a million sentences silent, and simply looked back down to the floor with a soft, short hum of acknowledgement to Veronica’s words.

After having healed the Great Hero, Veronica retired early for bed, deciding she didn’t have the appetite for dinner anymore. The Hero volunteered to spend the night in the couch of the Great Hero’s chambers so that he may not be alone after an attempt on his integrity just took place, and the Great Hero seemed the slightest bit embarrassed about the offer, but accepted it nonetheless.

And so, while waiting for the Hero to return from where he had gone to fetch blankets to spend the night over, Bruno sat on the opposite couch so as to not leave the Great Hero alone, under Veronica’s last orders.

Looking at the man right now, however, Bruno had the impression he wasn’t in desperate need for constant vigilance.

The Great Hero stood facing the furthermost window from the door, hands leaning on the windowsill as he stared at the complex maze of bridges and towers that was the view from that side.

His expression was set in a pensive one, calculations and questions Bruno would kill to know running through his eyes yet never making it past them.

It was _not_ what Bruno had expected his behaviour would be after what had just taken place.

He remembered when the same thing happened to Veronica, back when she was seven years old. She had just shed her last pair of maids and was throwing a week-long tantrum to make her point clear: if it wasn’t her practically absent father or her brother (her mother was long dead by then), then she didn’t want anyone seeing to her daily activities in the ways maids were supposed to do.

She had been running around the castle after escaping a last-minute maid while she was trying to get her dressed properly, in socks and nightgown and her hair a mess, when a surplus of guards and soldiers strategically blocked her throughout several corridors until she didn’t notice herself running into a false corridor.

A false corridor set up under the orders of one of the senators (Bruno was certain) with fairly small, simple caltrops.

Bruno found her five minutes after, upon noticing the sudden leave of the guards and soldiers that had been uncharacteristically abundant just earlier that day.

Bruno had to bribe the standing senator of the Hallvarðr province, who happened upon them as he was trying to carry Veronica out of the corridor and to the safety of his chambers, to keep quiet about this _or else_.

The senator was smart enough to buy Bruno’s trust on his promise not to say anything by providing them with one of his servants: a healer.

Ever since then, everytime Bruno reviewed and updated the order of his mental list of ‘who is most likely to backstab us in the event of a siege: senator edition’, that old man had turned up last.

Which was terrible, because that meant Bruno _still_ had a biased opinion on his affiliations based on a single purchase of momentary trust made almost nine years ago under extraordinary circumstances.

It just so happened all the other senators were significantly worse, so that man ended up at the end of the list by default.

But that did not make him an ally.

He was too quiet, too serious; if there was _anyone_ whom Bruno despised based solely on the fact he could _never_ read their expressions, it was _him_. Always battle-hardened; was the one most likely to be absent from senate meetings due to having to see to his army and their affairs on the front lines.

In fact, it had been nearly a month since he’d last visited the castle. Bruno supposed he should thank him, given that was one pig less to deal with--

Biased, _biased!_ He needed objectivity.

The sound of a window being opened snapped his attention to the Great Hero, currently leaning over the windowsill to look down, torso out past his shoulders but one leg securely anchored to the side of the wall so as to not slip forward.

Bruno wondered if there was anything different from that angle that the view from behind the closed window couldn’t give you.

“How far is the drop down?” came the Great Hero’s mildly intrigued question as he returned to standing straight, looking out the open window. Bruno tried not to blink, not having expected him to speak – much less ask that.

“Enough to kill.”

“Of course that’s your measuring unit,” the Great Hero mumbled, not sounding particularly displeased with the answer despite the nature of the comment.

“It is the only one that matters,” Bruno played along regardless.

“So I _am_ stuck up here, then,” the Great Hero noted, not turning to look at him. He closed the window. “There’s no escape route.”

Bruno tried to shove aside the slight surprise that came over him. He hadn’t expected the man to realize that so quickly. And even if the thought had crossed his mind, him outright addressing the situation was never a scenario he would’ve run through. “...No,” he half-lied after a short silence. What there was couldn’t really be counted as an escape route if Bruno was the only one with enough lack of self-preservation to even consider it as a viable option.

There was a non-committal hum from the Great Hero, and the conversation was apparently dropped at that.

For someone who had just been told their personal chambers were a dead end with no escape routes in a castle where an attempt on his person had already been made, he didn’t sound particularly troubled with his situation.

Bruno decided not to question it, and turned his attention away from the man still standing by the window just in time for the steps of the Hero crossing the bridge leading to the tower to reach his ears.

Back in his chambers after having changed posts with the Hero, Bruno didn’t leave his spot from his window overlooking the bridge to the Great Hero’s tower until the castle entered nighttime. Nobody was stupid enough to walk the halls during nighttime, and so he felt confident nobody would be attempting to get into the tower until dawn.

And if they did, then the Hero was there for a reason.

So Bruno spent the entire six most dangerously peaceful hours of the castle from nine in the night to three in the morning asleep – a rare occurrence.

At six in the morning, he watched the Great Hero leave his chambers with the Hero in tow, and judging by the height difference between them Bruno surmised that, despite what had happened last night, the Great Hero still refused to wear shoes.

He even had a skip in his step as they crossed the bridge.

Bruno waited two more hours before heading for the foyer.

Which he found empty.

Deciding to think nothing of it (morning stasis hours were still active, meaning nothing too bad could happen if the man was walking the Hero back to his chambers or something along those lines), he took a stand near the windowsill and waited.

And waited.

Veronica arrived before the Great Hero did, and she shot him a confused look upon noticing his absence.

Bruno shook his head no, for he too had no idea where the man had gone.

He watched as Veronica held back her confusion and settled on her practiced uninterested stare, taking a seat by the table. 

The both of them turned to watch the secret door open to allow the servants with the food in, but they instead found the Great Hero.

And the servants.

And the food.

But--

“Where were you?” Veronica questioned, holding back most of the bafflement from her voice.

“I wanted scrambled eggs,” the Great Hero shrugged, setting a tray on the table, the servants that had been trailing behind him getting to work on setting the food down and collecting the empty trays.

“That does not answer my question,” Veronica almost frowned, watching him take a seat.

The Great Hero ignored her for a moment, instead turning to the retreating servants and shooting them a smile and a small “Thanks!” which the other two returned with a sheepish and clearly caught off-guard nod. _Then_ he turned to Veronica. "Yes it does? I wanted scrambled eggs, so I went to make some.”

Veronica blinked. “You could simply ask for them once breakfast starts. Were you _that_ hungry?”

“Can’t be just any scrambled eggs, Princess,” the Great Hero shook his head no, focusing on the food.

Bruno allowed himself to eye the plates he’d brought on the tray, and found the aforementioned scrambled eggs. They looked fluffy and soft.

“What would the difference be?” he risked asking.

“Milk, butter, and nutmeg,” the Great Hero informed through bites of bread.

“Nutmeg?” Veronica repeated, now baffled.

  
  


The Great Hero wordlessly pushed the plate towards her and ignored the looks she was giving him as he stacked slices of cheese on a loaf of bread.

Veronica eyed the plate, suspicious, before grabbing a fork and taking a cautious bite.

Bruno watched as her eyes widened in surprise, free hand coming to cover her mouth. Then she frowned, staring intently at the eggs, both hands dopping to rest on the table.

“Why,” was all Veronica managed out after a moment, still frowning.

“Is it good?” he asked, the Great Hero ignoring them both in favor of reaching for the ham across the table.

“Yes,” she sighed, annoyed. “It’s really good.”

Bruno caught glimpse of a smirk from the Great Hero before he hid it with a bite of his sandwich.

“This is you overstepping,” Veronica mumbled, and Bruno almost didn’t catch the realization in her tone.

The Great Hero stopped halfway through taking another bite of his food, turning to her.

“What?”

“This is what the ministers don’t want,” she continued. “They want you up in that tower, like a doll, leaving only to summon Heroes for the army. You’re a tool, not another maid.”

“Not my fault their brains are so tiny,” the Great Hero simply said, taking the bite.

“You know this,” Veronica turned to him, brows furrowed but expresion covered with coldness. “You know this, and yet you do not cease. You refuse to wear boots. You go out of your way to _cook_ in the _servant’s kitchen_. Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Why would I wear boots?” the Great Hero fixed her a serious stare.

“Will you step on more caltrops the next time this happens?” she challenged. “Because it will happen again if you continue down this path.”

“See, that’s where you’ve got this all wrong, Princess,” the Great Hero remained unfaced. “The problem isn’t whether I’ll get hurt again or not – it’s the fact that someone’s going to try and set another trap again what’s important here.”

“So you will continue to overstep your supposed boundaries, regardless of the outcome,” Bruno intervened before Veronica’s fuse could run out for good. “You will continue, despite the fact you know it _will_ lead to the ministers regarding you poorly, which will lead to more attempts on your person.”

“But I can risk it,” the Great Hero turned to him, and-

Bruno felt like backing away. 

He didn’t.   
He remained still, tense, seated across the man staring him down with an intensity so strong, so heavy, it was compressing him. 

It was asphyxiating.

It was all-encompassing.

It was a gaze of a hundred years of solitude and generations upon generations squashing him down. The knowledge of empires, the wisdom of kings; it was waves and waves of silent judgement to _not_ proceed.

To shut up.

To sit still and listen, for everything and everyone that came after him would depend on it.

“ _I_ can risk it,” the Great Hero repeated, and it snapped Bruno out of his shock. He had never been more grateful for his mask, for he doubted he would be able to hold under those eyes with nothing between them. “Unlike you two,” the Great Hero turned to Veronica now, and Bruno felt as though he could finally breathe again. “That’s the power of the Great Hero, isn’t it? _I_ don’t matter, it’s the things I do and say what do. It’s what I change, what I create. I should _not_ have to comply to the shortsighted wishes of anyone, no matter who they are. I should _not_ have to wear boots, for there should be _no_ caltrops I should have to watch out for. If I bleed again, it’s the attacker’s fault it happened, and it’s not something _I_ should be burdened with changing. But I will.”

There was a pause, and those teal eyes returned to rest on him- on his very soul.

Bruno did not like those eyes at that very moment.

“I am not overstepping anyone’s boundaries, Prince,” the Great Hero declared, final. “I am kicking them from mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiran: fine, if nobody here will get me good scrambled eggs, then i'll make them myself.  
> Veronica: this is witchcraft
> 
> so yeah!  
> i don't know what else to put down here, i'm sure i had something i wanted to say but i just want to get this chapter out while i'm still capable of writing something coherent after weeks hahah;;;  
> anyway i'll see you next chapter!


	7. Mild Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruno tries (and fails) not to think about the Great Hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaa

The rest of the day went by in a blur.

Bruno lost sight of where the Summoner was after breakfast, but decided not to think about the man unless the Hero reached out to them once more in distress. If he wanted to go around risking his integrity, then so be it. Everyone in the castle was aware they  _ needed _ him, so there was no threat on his life as of now.

Of course, he was acutely aware of how quickly that could change. But for now…

The ministers, as usual, pretended to not know what had happened last night, and the servants looked to be under obvious threat of silence. It wasn’t as though Bruno had ever needed confirmation on who were the ones involved in the caltrops trap, but it was never as disappointing as it was now to be continuously reminded of just how  _ bad _ these people were at committing crimes or assaults on others (that isn't to say he approved of those actions if done correctly, however). With enough observation and prior knowledge of context and their behaviours, it was glaringly obvious who were the ones trying to hide an extra thing today compared to two days ago.

Alas, since he knew calling them out would be futile, he could only continue to pretend he didn’t know who it had been, either; or outright feign ignorance to yesterday’s trap.

He’d already built a reputation of being far too self-absorbed in his quest for knowledge, and he intended to keep it that way.

Terrible news were brought to him at around three in the afternoon in the form of an official notice from one of the senators, Daniel Grímhildr.

There would be a senate meeting in two days’ time to discuss operations at the border. Bruno wouldn’t be surprised if this was about pushing the front lines to the other side of Stargrove Pass, even if that would funnel their forces through the valley. The idea was to prevent Askr from stationing their forces over the mountain range, as senators Ladia Hreiðarr, Barbara Solberg, and Gregory Þrymr were adamant about blocking the Kingdom from setting camp in Gunnlöð’s plateau and having direct access to Solberg territory.

The operation had been discussed previously in another meeting, but ultimately pushed aside in favor of more pressing matters. Bruno had no real reason to oppose this operation, and disagreeing simply to spite the senators wouldn’t do him any good.

However, the fact a meeting was being called again on such short notice meant they wanted to change something in the operation.

Bruno had the suspicion this was related to the Summoner.

“They want to see the tool in action,” Veronica confirmed his suspicions over dinner. The Summoner was, once again, nowhere to be found. Bruno opted to think nothing of it. “I’ve been in and out of meetings with the ministers of finances, mining, and commerce to deal with the extraction and refinement of the Summoning Orbs.”

“And take him to the front lines?” Bruno mused, brows furrowing. “I’m not certain this will end well.”

“Might be the quickest way to make him realize what he’s getting into,” Veronica frowned as well. “It seems like a pity.”

Bruno thought back on the man and how unwilling he was to collaborate with the war effort at first. “Indeed.”

“This might mean we’re best abandoning the original plan,” she looked up at him, mug in hand.

The original plan.

The idea they’d had, before the senators sent Bruno to ‘steal the relic’, of organizing expeditions into the gateways in Askr and binding Heroes under a power hierarchy contract. 

Bruno always wondered how the Askran forces would’ve reacted to that.

“If the Great Hero can cover the manpower by summoning alone, then yes, we might,” Bruno agreed.

Veronica leaned back on her chair, a soft huff of air escaping her.

It had been her idea, and Bruno had always been positive it had been born mostly out of curiosity for what’s on the other side of the gateways.   
For what were the Heroes like.

The fact it would’ve aided on their base plan of ending the war swiftly and quickly by taking out one of the Askran royals was simply an added bonus.

The next morning, the Summoner didn’t show up for breakfast either, and now Bruno was the slightest bit annoyed.

Where was he? Was he- Was he starving himself in protest?

“Has the Great Hero eaten?” he asked one of the maids assigned to the man, accidentally cornering her just outside the kitchen.

“Yes,” she simply said.

Bruno realized this was the same maid that was in the laundry room when the Summoner made a scene about his clothes. “He did not show up for breakfast, Rose,” he deadpanned.

Rose averted her gaze to the side, clearly trying to find an out of the situation. Bruno tried not to sigh.

Of course.

“He told you not to tell me,” he stated, less of a question and more of a fact.

“Yes,” was Rose’s meek and guilty reply.

“I won’t tell him you told me, you have my word,” Bruno tried. “Did he eat? He didn’t show up for dinner yesterday night, either.”

“He did eat!” Rose squeaked out, now even more guilty. “He just- He just showed up at the kitchen and convinced us to let him eat in our mess hall.”

Bruno blinked, taking a step back to let the maid’s nerves stabilize. She took a dramatic deep breath. “The castlehands’ mess hall?”

Rose nodded quickly at that, and he dismissed her.

That was interesting.

While he wasn’t entirely certain he understood the reasoning behind  _ why _ the Summoner refused to eat at the foyer with them, he had to acknowledge the smart decision there.

Out of the five mess halls in the castle, the castlehands’ was the smallest one and arguably the worst looked upon by the court.

However, it was also the only one nobody but the castlehands had any real access to. The senators and ministers didn’t visit the inner corridors outside of the occasional visit to their servant’s wing, and the servants themselves didn’t stray from their own wing. The guards never bothered with the inner corridors, either.

The minister’s dining room was clearly out of the question, as was the Main Dining room, where the senators ate during their stay. If he didn’t plan to eat at the foyer, then his only three options were the servant’s mess hall, the barrack’s mess hall, and the castlehands’.

Bruno was both confused and relieved. Relieved for the fact the Summoner apparently wasn’t idiotic enough to purposefully provoke the ministers and senators at his every living moment.

But confused for… well, if he was this smart in his movements, why provoke them to begin with? What did he gain from this? If he simply didn’t wish to eat with him and Veronica, he could ultimately just ask the maids to bring him food to his chambers, as it was done for the Hero.

No matter how much he turned it over his head, he couldn’t see the line of thought that would bring this attitude about.

He spoke about kicking the senators off his boundaries,

but how did this help?

There was no sign of the Summoner for the remaining of the morning, and Bruno decided to busy himself with literally anything else.

But the Summoner seemed to have a gravitational force of his own. No matter how much Bruno tried, he could never get his thoughts to stray too far from the man. 

It was infuriating. It was frustrating. He couldn’t get any work done, he couldn’t look over records, he couldn’t practice magic--

He couldn’t do anything.

Everywhere he went, it seemed as though the Summoner’s presence lingered in all the corridors. In all the halls. In all the page’s faces as they walked back and forth in small groups, chatting amiably. In the maid’s gossips. In the guards’ jokes.

The man was everywhere.

Imagine his frustration.

Imagine not being able to escape him, even in the seclusion of his own chambers. In the dead silence of the unused library.

Nowhere was safe.

Nowhere.

His memory was in every corner. Those damned eyes- in every painting.

His voice reached from even--

His voice?

Bruno made a sharp turn in his path, entering the control room overlooking the eastern landing balcony. There was a group of three guards staring in amusement out the wide open windows, looking down.

Bruno came to stand between them, the men tensing immediately but relaxing upon seeing him raise a hand in stop.

Much like his own, their attention landed once more on the landing balcony.

There was a small group of maids and pages sitting by the crates, the Hero perched on the parapet with his lute in hand, the melody carrying over to them along with the Summoner’s voice, who was pacing around – or… dancing? – in the middle.

Judging by the progression of the notes, Bruno assumed this was a song the Summoner had taught the other man to play along.

He was singing something about a room, something about an event happening. Bruno wanted to go back to doing nothing, lean back into the control room from the window and get out of the scene.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the man, who was now most certainly dancing (although he’d never seen that style before) in the balcony, enjoying himself.

“My  _ God! _ In God we trust; but we’ll never really know what got discussed!” the Summoner sang, a proclamation, and the rhythm almost made Bruno want to dance along. “Click-boom then it happened!” he pointed two fingers forward, thumb up, towards the maids. His eyes landed on him up in the control room, apparently noticing him, but he continued on as if nothing had changed. “And no one else was in the room where it happened.”

The Summoner spun in place and made a hand signal to the maids, who broke out in a gleeful and entertained chorus of two words Bruno didn’t manage to catch. Alexander? Alexander something.

“ _ What _ did they say to you to get you to sell New York City down the river?” the Summoner questioned, sounding distressed. Was he acting? Was this a play?

The maids chanted again. Alexander something. That must be someone’s name, Bruno figured.

“Did Washington know about the dinner? Was there Presidential pressure to deliver?”

The maids once more.

The notes from the lute quieted down, the Hero concentrated on his instrument.

“Or did you know, even then, it doesn’t matter where you put the U.S. Capital--” the Summoner almost spoke, pacing softly, and Bruno decided this was indeed a play of sorts. The man shifted spots and his voice changed to imitate who was possibly another character. “‘Cause we’ll have the banks; we’re in the same spot,” a signal to the Hero.

“You got more than you gave,” the Hero mused, completely out of character, but the Summoner didn’t seem to care and neither did the maids watching, entranced.

“And I wanted what I got!” he declared, taking confident strides back and forth. The melody in the lute was almost suspenseful. “When you got skin in the game; you stay in the game. But you don’t get a win unless you play in the game. Oh, you get love for it. You get hate for it. You get nothing if you--”

“Wait for it, wait for it, wait--” the maids murmured at the signal, clearly enjoying themselves.

“God help and forgive me!” the Summoner exclaimed, walking far quicker now, “I wanna build something that’s gonna outlive me! What do you want, Burr? What do you want, Burr?!” he turned to the maids, yet his eyes shot up to Bruno’s, angry. He held his breath. “If you stand for nothing, Burr,  _ what do you fall for?! _ ”

The guards around him broke out in hushed exclamations about what they were witnessing down there, engrossed in the play and in the Summoner’s incredible acting skills. Bruno didn’t manage to hear the next parts of the song among the noise around him, and he couldn’t exactly tell them to shut up lest he make a fool of himself.

He could only watch, entranced despite his best efforts, as the man danced across the balcony. Spinning. Timing his jumps and hand gestures to the lyrics of the song.

“But we dream in the dark for the most part! Dark as a tomb where it happens; I’ve got to be in the room--”

“Where it happens!”

The maids and pages began to sing along with him towards the end of the song, and he could also hear the hushed attempts to follow along of the guards around him.

When it ended, the Summoner stood pointing two fingers directly towards him, thumb up, and Bruno had to physically step back from the window before those eyes could trap him in place again.

As he left the control room, he could still hear the ruckus of cheers and the applause that followed the abrupt end of the song.

Unsurprisingly, the Summoner didn’t show up for dinner that night, either.

The senators started arriving as early as ten in the morning the following day. The first ones to make it to castle Hervör were, to nobody’s surprise, the representatives of the Solberg, Völundr, Arnviðr, and Alfvin provinces, the four territories sharing borders with the capital. The next two were the men from Hallvarðr and Þrymr, who arrived on wyvernback, along with Hreiðarr. Grímhildr was the next to show up, uncharacteristically early (even for a meeting he himself called for), followed not fifteen minutes after by Søren.

Sverre, as always, was the last one to make it.

The meeting went in much the same way Bruno had anticipated it would go. Grímhildr started it with Hreiðarr’s arguments and points favoring the operation. Since it was a bad strategic move for the front lines, Hallvarðar was adamant about the fact their forces would be funnelled through Stargrove Pass.

But since Hallvarðar was one man, and three of the other senators were in favor of the maneuver, the bootlickers of Sverre and Søren were quick to give their votes to the majority. Alfvin didn’t care much for the operation, to everyone’s frustration, and Völundr couldn’t hold the opposition with Hallvarðar alone; so Arnviðr ended up voting in favor.

With two senators not explicitly opposed (they couldn’t) and all others in favor, Veronica was left with no choice but to agree to the operation.

Bruno tuned out of the rest of the meeting, paying attention only for the useful bits, and left the meetings chamber in a worse mood than the one he entered it with.

He didn’t know what to make of the situation.

With the operation approved, they would be meeting at the Grímhildr manor with Hallvarðar forces to then depart towards the pass. The Askran Royal Knights stationed at the mouth of the pass were a force to be reckoned with, led by commanders Bjarne and Helga; one of whom was even the second in command to King General Gustav of Askr.

It was no real wonder they decided taking the Summoner along would be a good idea, even if part of the reason why this operation had resurfaced was to see the tool in action.

With Veronica’s approval, a grand total of ten Summoning Orbs had been procured for the Summoner to utilize. Along with the Hero Lewyn already with them, that would mean they would have eleven Heroes at their disposal.

‘At their disposal’, that sounded disgusting. Bruno tried not to think too much of it.

After five minutes of walking around, he had no idea where the Summoner was.

He headed into the inner corridors and almost immediately collided into three maids running and giggling through the passageways.

They halted and pivoted not to smack against his side, as did himself, and they stood frozen for a second, afraid.

Bruno casted a cursory glance over them and discovered they weren’t afraid because he’d caught them doing something bad, like skipping their tasks; but rather they were afraid of what he would think about seeing them doing something as silly as… whatever it was they were doing.

So Bruno opted to think nothing.

“Have any of you seen the Great Hero?” he asked instead, pretending he hadn’t almost been accidentally tackled to the ground. Worry and nerves seemed to leave the maid’s shoulders in waves, apparently relieved he wasn’t scolding them.

“We’re running from him,” one of them informed, a grin spreading through her face. Bruno blinked.

“You’re what?”

“Yeah, he got all of us who’d finished our tasks to play tag!” another chimed in, amused. “I think we’re winning.”

“Oh, we totally are; there’s no way he finds us down there,” the first one assured, turning to the other two, who giggled mischievously. Bruno refrained from sighing. Let them have fun.

“Do you at least have an idea of where he could be?” he tried regardless.

“Last we saw him, he was following Geremy from stables and his group out of the pantry,” the third one hummed, pondering the question. “But that was a while ago, he could be anywhere.”

Bruno did sigh then. “Alright, thank you. Be careful when turning corners.”

The maids let out uncharacteristically cheery goodbyes before taking off down the corridor.

Bruno decided his brain could process all of this later in the night, and set out to try and find the Summoner.

If he saw himself growing more frustrated by the minute and ultimately resorted to casting a magic imprint tracking spell, then nobody had to know.

The Summoner, as it turned out, was in the secluded corner balcony of the seventh floor, a place Bruno had not expected him to be at all and a discovery that retroactively validated his frustrations with not finding the man.

“What are you doing here,” he heard himself huffing upon exiting into the small balcony, voice far more harsh than what he intended and sounding less like a question and more like a demand.

“Looking for Tuure, I can’t find him,” came the man’s reply, apparently unfaced with his tone and not paying him much mind at all.

Bruno walked up to the parapet and looked down at the interconnecting bridges casting shadows over the stables’ courtyard far below. The Summoner at his side seemed to be focused on finding something– or, rather, someone, down there.

Tuure?

“You’ve met Tuure?” he couldn’t help but ask, his mind only now catching up to that piece of information.

“Yeah?” the man continued to pay him no mind, squinting at the bridges.

Bruno tried not to grumble at the lack of attention he was receiving from the other man.

Tuure was, as the senators so terribly liked to put it, Bruno’s messenger hawk. It was the closest thing he had to a personal servant, and even that was a stretch.

The confusing part was, Tuure wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.

He made a mental note to look for the spy later, after he was done informing the Summoner of the upcoming expedition.

He also chose not to ask  _ why _ was the Summoner looking for the spy in the first place.

“Great Hero, I have important news you should be aware of,” he stated, crossing his arms, tone once again harsher than he intended.

“I’m listenin’,” was all he got as a reply, the Summoner continuing to look down at the bridges.

Bruno refrained from showing his frustration. “Tomorrow at noon we depart for a meeting at the Grímhildr manor with Hallvarðar forces,” he informed, short and to the point. That made the man pay attention to him.

The Summoner blinked and turned to face him, expression between confused and surprised. “A meeting?”

“To discuss strategy to storm Stargrove Pass,” he continued. “They want to push back the Askran front lines to the other side of the mountains to cut their access to a plateau to the east.”

The Summoner furrowed his brows, looked down at the floor for a second, and then met his eyes once more while indicating himself with a finger. “And I’m supposed to go?”

“They want to see the tool in action,” Bruno scoffed, turning his body to the parapet but keeping his eyes on the man. “Veronica has procured ten Summoning Orbs for you.”

“Wait- you want me to-” the Summoner began, stammering. “You want me to summon someone else? Like- Like Lewyn?”

“That’s the only reason you’re here in the first place, Great Hero,” Bruno pointed out. “The council ‘made me’ bring you so that you may bring  _ us _ powerful warriors.”

“But I don’t- I don’t want to bring someone else,” the Summoner frowned, still sounding mildly confused. “I’m just kidnapping them into a war!”

Bruno winced internally. That was true, but it wasn’t something that would change the minds of the senators who saw both the Heroes and the Great Hero himself as mere tools to be used. “The senators simply do not care, Great Hero.”

“So we are going to- we are going to fight,” the man mumbled, looking down to the side once more.

“Not you in particular, but yes,” Bruno nodded. “You’ll be standing at the end of the formation, with Veronica and me.”

“And Lewyn will be at the front,” another mumble.

“The Hero and whoever else you summon.”

The Summoner let out a slightly shaky sigh, standing back from the parapet.

“I’ve gotta tell him,” he stated, more to himself, moving to leave. He seemed to realize something and turned back to him. Bruno stayed silent at the sight of his frantic eyes. “If you see Tuure, tell him he won.”

Bruno watched the Summoner rush out of the scene, headed for the Hero’s chambers.

He decided not to think about the exchange anymore, and set out to find the spy.

Tuure was, predictably, in the hidden tower.

“Highness,” the man greeted him before he even turned to face him. Bruno appreciated the nonchalance and the lack of over-the-top bows and formalities.

“The Great Hero says you won,” Bruno decided to get that out of the way.

“Of course I did,” Tuure chuckled, pleased with himself.

“Why are you here so early?” Bruno cut to the chase, crossing his arms over his chest. “I believed it would take you longer to gather the list.”

“The gate guards seemed to be in a hurry for me to get things done with,” the man shrugged, turning to face him and handing him a thick book. “There you go, Highness.”

“This is the complete inventory, I take it?” Bruno quirked a brow even if the other wouldn’t see, taking the book in his hands. ‘Imperial Inventory of the Gunnlöð Archives’ stared back at him.

“Yep,” the man confirmed. “‘S what they gave me when I asked for it, at least.”

“Very well,” Bruno sighed. “Anything else?”

Tuure made a thinking face for a second. “Ah- Well, they gave me an odd look when I said I was sent by  _ you _ to retrieve the inventory list.”

Bruno hummed at that, and dismissed the man after thanking him.

It wasn’t entirely out of left field, if he was being honest. It wasn’t always that a royal asked for the entire inventory list, especially considering they were prohibited from going there ‘for their own safety’.

Embla’s royals had a tendency to be brawns over brains, so most never paid any mind to the archives at all. It was no real wonder the guards would think it strange if one were to suddenly ask to see the entire inventory, as though they were looking for something,

As though they cared.

Relieved to have a perfect distraction from his thoughts on the Summoner, then, Bruno retired to his chambers early into the day and spent most of the night going over the tome and its contents, jotting notes down in a separate piece of parchment.

Tomorrow he would deal with the man.

Tonight, it was time to read and probably be disappointed about his findings.

As per usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i so eloquently put it in World's epilogue:  
> UNI HELL UNI HELL UNI HELL UNI HELL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> so  
> yeah i'm back, hello, how's it been, how you doin  
> i meant it when i said i'd never abandon this story btw, fyi, i'm way too attached to the plot n the characters for that lmao
> 
> so  
> yeah  
> i don't even wanna tell you how many times i re-wrote this chapter bc it sucked all kinds of ass n then i just didn't write anything at all for a solid three weeks only to come back n erase it again hhhhhhhhhhh  
> anyway
> 
> i'm back now, hopefully inspiration won't bail on me again.  
> if anything, this is now the only story i'm working on, so that should in theory mean i have more time for it??? i guess? god i sure hope so i don't even know anymore  
> anyway yeah i'm happy to be back ily all mwuah i'll see you next chapter ok bye


	8. The Carnage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they storm Stargrove Pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with this chapter the google docs of this fic now has 69 pages lol nice

Bruno couldn’t believe the fact there was simply no documentation on a curse that had tormented the Imperial royal line for  _ generations.  _ Nobody had a singular clue on what it even was, who even suffered of it, what the consequences of it were –  _ nothing! _ Nothing!

He wanted to scream.

Gunnlöð was by no means his last resort, the last place he could search for answers in, but it was certainly one of the only places where he had been expecting to at least find  _ something. _ Not even answers. Even just a list of the royals who’d suffered from the curse, or annotations on how the curse affected them.

There wasn’t even a mention of the damn thing. And this wasn’t just him going crazy, either; he knew for a fact his father had had this very same problem, as well as the eldest sister of the empress before him. This was a real thing.

But, to the records, it didn’t seem to be. None of the tomes listed in the inventory seemed to have anything to do with it, let alone curses in general. There were surprisingly few books of that on the list.

Now what? Where was he supposed to search next?

He didn’t know.

Or- well, he did know. But he didn’t want to think about it for a moment.

Much to his dismay, he had more arguably urgent matters to attend to.

Unsurprisingly, the Summoner didn’t show up for breakfast that morning, either.

The rest of the early hours were spent coordinating with the ministers on what to do and not to do during their absence. He saw to it that all who would be travelling were ready, went about finding out if the Hero was capable of riding a wyvern, and ensured everything they would need they would be taking.

At noon, then, they met in the western landing balcony.

The complete posse consisted of he himself, Veronica, the Hero, the Summoner, the page that had been assigned to see to the Hero’s needs, and the two personal maids assigned to the Summoner.

So they saddled up, bid their goodbyes to the ministers and guards, and set off southwest to Grímhildr territory.

Leading the formation, Bruno opted to clear his mind off thoughts and enjoy the relative silence, the wind through his hair. 

He felt free, and he hated it. It was almost mocking. A look at what he could have, but didn’t. 

He always did prefer horseback, anyways.

They arrived sometime after five in the evening, some two hours after the Hallvarðar comitive. The Summoner was quietly complaining to the Hero about his back hurting from the flight, and Bruno was once again trying to tune out the man’s voice.

Igor Hallvarðar and Daniel Grímhildr were at the entrance to the manor, possibly arguing, by the time they walked up to them. The owner of the estate motioned them inside as the maids helped them to their temporary rooms.

At a quarter ‘till six, they had been ushered into the meeting room to discuss strategy for the following morning’s operation.

From his seat next to the Summoner, Bruno could watch him clench and unclench his hands under the table, and it was almost distracting.

A lot was said in the meeting, but very little of it mattered considering half of it was Grímhildr and Hallvarðar still arguing over the fact the operation had been approved in the first place.

In summary, the plan was as followed: Hallvarðar forces would launch an assault on the front lines and move as the vanguard while the Grímhildr forces already stationed there would follow their advance to secure the territory. Depending on which Heroes the Summoner would bring them in the morrow, they would be accordingly positionated with either of the two groups.

Somehow, however, the Summoner managed to sweet-talk his way out of performing a summoning ritual before the battle. Something or other about the element of surprise they would get if he brought Heroes  _ during _ the battle, and since Grímhildr had always been a fan of dramatics, he approved the idea. Hallvarðar refrained from commenting on it, as did everyone else.

Once the meeting was over and they had been freed for the rest of the evening, Bruno managed to corner the Summoner before he scurried away to his designated chambers. He led them to an area where they wouldn’t be heard, and tried to reel in the sigh that was about to leave him.

The Summoner stood there, mildly confused, shifting in his spot – probably from his uncomfort with the boots, again.

“You do know,” he began, careful not to sound accusing nor patronizing, “that they won’t let you get away without summoning a singular Hero tomorrow, right?”

The Summoner looked down with a sigh, as though he had expected it but had hoped otherwise. 

Bruno wanted to sigh as well.

His “plan” to have the “element of surprise” had clearly been an attempt to not summon anyone and have the senators forget about it in the heat of battle, or make an excuse for it during the situation. Bruno wasn’t blind. But, that was clearly not going to work, as the senators would question afterwards why he hadn’t done anything, and only worse would come of it in the end.

“But if I agreed to do it tomorrow morning, then they would’ve pressed me to use up all the orb-things,” the Summoner almost whined, frustrated with the situation. Bruno could commiserate on that, at the very least. “At least if I’m gonna do it in the middle of the fight then I can make some excuse out of it. Like, ‘oh sorry I just couldn’t see that many good opportunities’, or somethin’.”

Bruno hummed. That was actually a good point, and he could see it working out. But then, why… “Given your aim here seems to be involving the least amount of Heroes possible, it seems strange that you’d be willing to throw them face-first into a battle without any semblance of warning whatsoever instead of, well, something more normal.”

The Summoner winced. “Jesus, don’t say it like that, I know it’s bad as is,” he mumbled, but he looked as though he was organizing his thoughts on what to actually answer to that. “Look, I don’t like it, but I think it’ll be fine. Lewyn did tell me he felt like someone or something called for him to fight when he arrived, so he actually came here ready to throw hands for me.”

“Is that so?” Bruno couldn’t help but ask, intrigued. The Summoner nodded.

“You can ask him if you want. I only understood, like, half of what he said because most of it was just… I don’t know, I guess complicated magic stuff I’m not used to,” he added, shaking his head. “Anyway, was that all? I wanna sleep.”

Bruno blinked from behind his mask, but caught his composure immediately. “I believe so, yes. Be ready tomorrow at sunrise.”

The Summoner’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, turning to leave. “Nighty night.”

The Summoner was, in fact, not ready by the next day at sunrise.

“You’re sending me to a battlefield on STEEL _ HEELS _ ?!”

Bruno sighed from outside the assigned chambers, one of the two maids assigned to the man wincing at his side – he couldn’t recall her name. They had been trying to coerce the man into his assigned garments, but to no avail. It was a testament to the maid’s exasperation the fact that one of them had gone to  _ him _ to ask for his help.

Bruno was getting very tired of this nonsense. They had ten minutes to spare and the maids were needed elsewhere, not there trying to dress that… that grown baby.

“Great Hero, if you do not comply to putting on those boots at once I  _ will _ come in and put them on you myself,” he threatened from outside, leaning towards the sturdy door to make himself heard.

There was a sudden shuffling of clothes from inside the room, and after two beats of silence the door was snapped open to a very much relieved maid and an uncomfortable and annoyed Summoner, in his designated boots.

Good.

...

Bruno took in the scene for the second time.

“Where is the  _ cape _ ??” he asked, halfway through a frustrated whine. He hated how that sounded the second it left his mouth. The maid that stood by the other man – Rose? Yes, Rose – flailed the garments still held in her hands, looking ready to pull on her own hair. Bruno almost grumbled. “Why is it not  _ on _ him?!”

“What sorta cape has  _ shoulderpads _ ?!” the Summoner intervened, gesturing vaguely towards Rose. He sounded scandalized. “You’re gonna turn me into a lightning rod with all that metal you’re putting on me!”

“It’s called armor!” Bruno almost barked, somehow managing to not raise his voice too much.

“I thought I wasn’t going to be fighting?!” the Summoner insisted, now slightly distraught, panic rising.

Bruno attempted twice to get something coherent out of his mouth before dismissing the maids from the scene. They booked it out of the chamber and to where they were needed, leaving Bruno with the offending cape and the Summoner.

“Turn around,” he commanded, unfolding the cape, intent on not wasting even more time. It was clear arguing with the man about this would get him nowhere. “Let the maids do their jobs, for Embla’s sake.”

“Am I going to be fighting? Why would I need armor?” the Summoner took two steps back and away from him, now very much scared at the concept. Except… Bruno wasn’t entirely certain if it was fear in his eyes, or nervousness. No matter.

Half of a sigh left his mouth before he could reel it in. “You won’t be fighting, this is entirely ceremonial,” he explained, readying the cape to drape it over him. “Now turn.”

The Summoner regarded him with something between defeat and defiance before grumbling and doing as he was told. Bruno almost sighed in relief, feeling strangely like he was ten years younger and it was Veronica he was attempting to dress instead.

“You are such a child,” he couldn’t stop himself from grumbling out, carefully yet quickly settling the cape correctly over his shoulders. He caught sound of the Summoner mumbling out  _ something _ , but didn’t quite understand what it was. He adjusted the pauldrons and the black feathers adorning the attire. “What was that?” he nearly demanded.

“I’m probably older than you,” the Summoner begrudgingly spoke

Bruno stopped despite himself with his hands halfway through placing the hood over his head, hovering near his ears. “Are you?” he asked, genuinely curious. He couldn’t remember having asked his age, and that seemed like an oversight.

“Am I?” the Summoner shot back, apparently just as curious. Bruno draped the hood correctly and retracted his hands, taking a step back as the man turned halfway to face him. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-five.”

“Huh,” the Summoner’s eyes widened slightly. “I’m twenty-six.”

There was a strange silence.

“I  _ am _ older than you,” the Summoner spelled it out, a small smile breaking through. As though he found some semblance of enjoyment in that fact.

Staring down at the man and his open-honest eyes, Bruno could hardly believe it.

“What are you two doing here?!” Veronica’s voice from the door snapped him from his reverie. She was dressed in her battle gear already, and Bruno’s mind once again couldn’t comprehend the fact the Summoner at his side was  _ older _ than both of them. “We ought to be off to the pass! Make haste!”

They made haste, and Bruno shoved his thoughts about the new discovery to the back of his head. At the very least he had confirmed the man was of legal drinking age, so he wouldn’t have to bother watching out for him. That was good.

They marched to the pass at about six forty in the morning, meeting up with the Grímhildr forces stationed at their frontline camp at about eight thirty. Neither Hallvarðar nor his men were peeved about what was about to take place, but were compliant nonetheless.

No, the air in the frontline camp wasn’t necessarily that of discomfort or dread; it wasn’t a particularly impossible mission they were about to undertake, they had stormed the pass several times in the past only to then lose it to Askran forces in a vicious cycle. It was more a generalized curiosity and awe at what they were possibly about to witness.

About the Great Hero, and Breidablik’s summoning prowess. The Hero was proof it worked, but few outside of the senate had actually seen the relic in action.

Hallvarðar and his forces charged south into the pass, and so the armed infantry of Grímhildr and them followed from the ground.

Bruno sat atop Macel, his steed; Veronica on her own stallion, Schan, not far from him. They were both here as defenses for the Great Hero, who marched between them in what was almost obvious pain from the footwear. The Hero was in formation with the few mages and healers, slightly ahead of them in the group, standing out like a sore thumb without armor and in completely different clothes form the Grímhildr infantry unit uniform.

Bruno spared another glance at the Summoner.

No, he didn’t look scared, now that he was actually marching with them. He didn’t  _ seem _ scared, at the very least. His posture was straight, even if his gait was stiff from the boots. His shoulders were squared, and his stare was set on the backs of the soldiers ahead of them.

He just looked… nervous. Uneasy, at what was about to come. Almost unsure, as though he didn’t know if he wanted to see nor take part in what was about to happen.

Or perhaps it was something different altogether that Bruno couldn’t grasp.

It was relatively calm in the backlines for a moment as they marched towards where the original Stargrove Frontier laid – the Askran base of operations in the frontlines of the pass. They could hear the sounds of the battle taking place a little ways farther south down the pass, Hallvarðar’s forces having pushed the Askrans back quite a big distance by now. 

They walked by the remains of the Askran camp, noting how a few pieces of wood and tent canvases had been left behind in the hurry to fight back on the ambush and gather their things to leave as the opposition became too great.

There was blood on the ground, too, and the Summoner stopped a couple of times to look at it before continuing with the march, his expression betraying nothing.

Bruno wondered, not for the first time, if it was a foreign experience to him. He knew, when he brought him to Zenith, that he’d plucked him out of some semblance of a conflict, judging by how there had been bloodstains and other sorts of grime on his person when he appeared.

However, what he didn’t know is whether that had been an exception or the rule.

But, alas, what good would asking do to him?

“Ready formation…!” the voice of the Gímhildr commander snapped him out of his thoughts. They were nearing the battle. “Charge!”

With Hallvarðar’s wyvern knights overhead, the vanguard of the group took off to battle. The healers and the mages followed after the armed infantry, at a relatively slower pace to keep themselves out of melee range, and Bruno and Veronica (along with the rest of the escort, composed of a couple of other soldiers and some archers) followed after them, flanking the Summoner.

They reached past the halfway point of the pass, and the backlines began setting up healing tents to treat the switching soldiers coming in and out of the battlefield ahead. Their mages stood in formation, raising a barrier to protect the backlines from stray projectiles and other forms of magic. 

From what Bruno could tell, from his point of view at the edge of the barrier, it seemed as though the fighting was going steady. Both sides were taking losses, and it would normally reach a stalemate if it were only the armored infantry of Grímhildr against Askr’s frontlines; but they had Hallvarðar and his men. As such, it was only a matter of time before the cost of the fight became too great for the Askrans to justify continuing on.

A soft thud at his side moved his attention to the Summoner, fallen on his knees, staring ahead with a look he could only describe as “helplessness” in his face. His hands held limp to the relic, and his eyes seemed glued to the clashing of blades on the other side of the barrier from them.

He looked… distraught wasn’t the right word…

Had the Hero fallen?

Bruno returned his attention to the fight, easily spotting said man in his whites and dark blues among the blacks and reds of the Empire and the whites and gold of the Kingdom. He stood by the battle mages, tome hovering at his side as his arms moved in wide angles, carrying the flames of their mages with a power comparable only to that of the cutting gales of the open seas capable of tearing even the sturdiest of sails to shreds.

It was almost mesmerizing, but Bruno saw nothing particularly worrying about that, so it couldn’t be the reason why the Summoner seemed so distraught. Nothing had happened to the Hero, clearly.

So then, what was it?

“How,” the Summoner’s voice brought his attention back to him, still on his knees, eyes still glued to the fight. “How long- For how long are they going to fight?”

Bruno kept himself from raising a brow at the unexpected question. “That depends on how long it takes the Askran commanders to yield,” he stated, but then realized that probably wasn’t what the Summoner wanted to hear. The man wanted an amount of time, not a ‘depends’. “Which… well, it could be from an hour to a couple, perhaps even three.”

“An- An hour?!” the Summoner whisper-yelled, which made Veronica turn to him, confused.

He didn’t add anything to that, only staring at the battle. Both Bruno and Veronica waited, however, thinking he had more to say.

After a moment of strange silence, the Summoner’s hands on the relic tightened and his lips closed in a thin line from where they had been parted in surprise. He stood up with much effort and hesitated on his steps before awkwardly phasing through the barrier.

Bruno reacted faster than his sister, urging his stallion to trot forward and stop the Summoner from going too far into the battlefield lest something happen to him.

“You must stay behind the barrier,” he stated, positioning his mare to block the Summoner’s path.

“Prince, they can’t fight like this for an  _ hour! _ ” the Summoner… pleaded? “So many are going to die!”

“That’s the price of war, Great Hero,” he couldn’t help but frown. Did that man really not understand death as an intrinsic part of armed conflict?

“It doesn’t have to be!” the man insisted, desperate. “You have- You have magic and dragons and- you can heal people with magic, it shouldn’t have to be like this!”

Bruno wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“I don’t want it to be like this,” the Summoner mumbled, hurried, facing forward.

The second it took Bruno to properly process such quiet words, the Summoner had sidestepped his stallion and proceeded forward.

He immediately took hold of the reins and instructed Macel to once again move to block the man-

-but before he could get too far, the Summoner had tossed one of the orbs into the air and shot it with the relic.

The blinding light that ensued caused Macel to startle and stand on its hind legs, neighing in surprise. Bruno could do nothing but hold on tight and shield his eyes until the blast passed.

When he was able to open his eyes, Macel was taking nervous steps in place, and he turned to look towards the battle. 

The Summoner was standing still, posture unsure; and in front of him, overing quite a bit more than his own height off the ground, was… a man in a dark purple robe, three pairs of black-feathered wings spread wide yet unmoving at his sides.

Crimson eyes seemed to pierce through the Summoner, then taking a glance at Bruno, then turning his back on them to witness the battlefield.

What followed was something Bruno wasn’t quite sure he himself knew how to properly describe.

The dark-robed man moved imposing in the air, coming to hover over the battlefield, facing the Askrans.

Then, it seemed as though light began being… dragged, from the battle, form the pass, towards the man. The darkness accumulated both in Bruno’s peripheral vision, and directly in front of the man-

Until it stopped.

Everything stopped, for a split second. No sounds were heard, no wind was blown, the light returned to its rightful spots as if it’d never left in the first place.

And then carnage befell the battlefield.

A plasmic fire denser than the most powerful magic blasts Bruno had witnessed in his life bathed the entire vanguard, breath form the figure’s mouth, engulfing everything in a sick combination of purples, magentas, and dirty whites. It swept through Askr’s forces and any Emblians caught in the middle alike, like molten iron into a cast, the sound a repulsive dull low-frequency blast that shook Bruno through his very core.

When it ended, there was nothing but silence, and the putrid smell of burnt flesh and liquid metal.

Then the light began being dragged again, as though the figure had taken but a mere break in its destruction.

“ _ STOP! _ ”

The Summoner’s scream snapped Bruno from his morbid surprise, and it was so visceral a sound it made practically the entire battlefield turn towards him.

Even the figure, whose unimpressed eyes held some curiosity as he began descending slowly to the ground, light returning to normal once again, the Emblian soldiers stood in shock there snapping out of their trances to scramble away to the sides.

Bruno watched, too stupefied to react, as the Summoner ran to the figure. As he almost tripped twice on the way there, his rushed footsteps being the only sound in the pass. As the figure began to turn and continue the attack, only to be stopped by the Summoner colliding with him, arms coming to wrap around his middle in an attempt to stop him.

Bruno watched as the Summoner all but clung to the man, legs giving up on him, face burrowed and hidden in the loose hood of the robe. The figure didn’t seem to react, but he didn’t continue with the carnage, either.

From above, the flapping of wings filtered back into his senses, and he looked up to find Hallvarðar’s forces flying low.

“Askr, do you yield?” came Hallvarðar’s thundering voice, booming over the silence of the battlefield.

“Of course we yield!” shouted back the Kingdom’s commander, voice laced with dread and something between fear and anger. He seemed to turn to his surviving men. “Fall back! Fall back!”

Sound slowly but surely returned to the pass, with Askr’s forces scrambling to retreat and Embla’s vacating the scene to go past the barrier and get some healing,

anything to be away from  _ that _ .

Bruno dismounted, Macel refusing to go anywhere near the smell of the carnage. He took silent and slow steps towards the few people who remained in the scene; watching as the Hero examined the mass of flesh and burnt armor that was left there.

Bruno wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to look at all.

Instead, he turned his attention to the other two, to the Summoner and the new Hero – the figure. 

The Hero, that is, Hero Lewyn, approached them as he did as well.

The figure turned, the Summoner releasing him from his grasp and falling fully on his knees, causing the other to take a step back. Crimson eyes turned to land on Hero Lewyn, who stopped in his tracks as though surprised, while Bruno continued on to kneel at the Summoner’s side.

“Great Hero,” he stated, unsure of what else to say, helping the man stand up, wobbly.

“Prince,” the Summoner spoke, voice cracked in several parts, his eyes wide and his tears pooling at the edges. “Prince, I didn’t- I didn’t- I didn’t mean to-”

“You what?” Bruno couldn’t help but ask, slightly confused, holding the man by the elbows. “Take a deep breath, Great Hero. Don’t--”

\--Look.

The Summoner’s hand shot to his mouth, eyes seemingly glued to the burnt mass of flesh ahead of them for a moment before he managed to push himself from Bruno’s grasp and tumble the other way to retch behind a rock.

Bruno turned to the approaching steps, finding Veronica and a terrified but dutiful healer.

“Bring some water,” he commanded, and the healer almost seemed relieved to nod and run back to the healing tents.

“What-” Veronica began, taking one proper glance at the scene before turning away, probably swallowing her breakfast back down. “Oh, dear Embla-”

There was a heavy silence for a moment, before the healer returned with a waterskin and some napkins and assisted the Summoner still emptying his stomach to the side.

Once he was marginally better, the two Heroes seemed to have finished their stare-off, and the newest one turned to the group. The healer almost flinched.

“Mortal-”

“Why?” the Summoner interrupted the figure, trembling, and almost stumbled back in an attempt to turn and face the man. Bruno and Veronica both caught him, but Veronica let go the second she noticed her brother had it covered. Bruno almost complained. “Why, why did you- Why-?”

“I merely answered your pleas,” the figure deadpanned, arms crossed over his chest, voice deep and far older than his body. 

“Yes, but I didn’t- Not like  _ this! _ ” the Summoner threw a hand towards the scene in front of them, the other holding to Bruno’s arm for support.

The figure’s eyes hardened. “You pleaded for a swift end to the battle. Have I not delivered? How else had you envisioned this would play out?”

“Does nobody in here know you can knock people out without killing them?!” the Summoner asked, desperate. “I didn’t- I didn’t  _ want _ this! I wanted to end the fighting, not-!”

“I heard ‘please bring an end to this battle’, and I  _ delivered _ ,” the figure interrupted, curt. “You asked for this.”

“No I didn’t!” the Summoner cried. “I didn’t! I- I didn’t- I did- I didn’t-”

“That’s enough,” Bruno intervened, far harsher than what he’d intended, supporting at the very least half the Summoner’s weight as he clung to him. “There was a misunderstanding, let us leave it at that.”

“Leave it at that?!” the Summoner sobbed. “Prince, all those people are  _ dead! _ I’m sure some of them were Emblians, too!”

“Yes, but there’s nothing we can do about that, now,” he grit his teeth, tone again harsher than he wanted it to be. “Cry all you want, but the only thing to be done now is make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he turned to face the new Hero, mainly because he didn’t know if he could look at the Summoner’s crying face any longer. “Am I understood?”

The figure huffed, condescending. “Clear as day.”

Bruno sighed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. The Summoner’s head was lowered, and he still clung to his arms. He got himself to look back at the crimson eyes. “What is your name?”

“You may refer to me as Grima.”

“Very well,” Bruno nodded, turning to Veronica. She looked slightly shaken, but was managing. He couldn’t exactly blame her, given what they’d just witnessed. “Do you wager we should head back?”

“I- Yes,” she blinked, looking between the trembling Summoner and him. “I’ll arrange the escort for you to get him back first. I’ll manage to wrangle Hallvarðar and Grímhildr.”

Bruno hadn’t expected that, but nodded. “Alright.”

As she took her leave with the healer in tow, Bruno managed to guide the mostly unresponsive Summoner atop Macel, then climbed on behind him to make sure he wouldn’t fall halfway through.

The man kept his head downcast, and his body continued to tremble as the steed took them back through the pass and towards Grímhildr manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah!! my inspiration hasn't completely abandoned me it seems! god everytime i write i feel like i know less and less what i'm doing, grammar-wise. like it's not even the fact english aint my first language i just can't form normal sentences in general lmao help
> 
> anyway yeah, Grima's here now!   
> i'm not sure i have much else to say lol
> 
> i'll see you next chapter <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


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